


A matter of misTrust

by QueenPotatos



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: After care, Angst, BDSM, Biting, Blowjobs, Choking, Dark, Dirty Talk, Food Play, Groping, Kissing, M/M, Mention of Somnophilia, Semi Public Sex, as for the nsfw tags, dark and horny, dmclww, every characters is the dark version of themselves here, it's super dark, needy bottom, not especially in the chronological order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26665846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPotatos/pseuds/QueenPotatos
Summary: After the battle of Derdriu Claude chooses to stay and fight alongside Dimitri.The closer he gets to the King of Faerghus, the more power he gains on him, especially after he finds a way into his bed. Drunk on his persuasion skills, Claude enjoys these moments they spent together, in the middle of war, suspended in time. He initiates Dimitri to a brand new world of pleasure, exploring their fantasies each night, and it was never a part of the plan but Claude falls, slowly but surely.He never felt better than with Dimitri's hand around his throat.But it stops abruptly when they found out about his selfish schemes.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 35
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has only one goal and it's to be super self indulging and to make me happy and it does.  
> Also this is a two shot, all the tags won't appear in this chapter

Flying above the battlefield gives Claude the opportunity to contemplate their crushing victory, as Dimitri shoves on the enemy in his shining armour, Areadbhar in hands, former Blue Lions and Golden Deers alike following his lead. They will hold little glory from the fight, for the bandits they crossed blades with were just what they were, bandits, unprepared against Dimitri’s wrath, powerless against his absolute strength. But Claude likes to believe each victory is a reason to rejoice, especially when there’s a price at stake.

His face morphs into a mischievous smile; of course Dimitri doesn’t know about that.

In the depth of the lake lies an artefact he has heard of from Leonie back in their academy years, of which she has probably forgotten by now – but not Claude, never; every single details that can help him ascent, anywhere higher, remains in the back of his head in a precise place he can come back to when time eventually asks for it. Taking the opportunity Dimitri’s final assault gives him, as it takes everyone’s attention and all gazes are on his lance, Claude flies down to the centre of the lake where a small altar waits for no one but him, a key he stole to one of the bandits in anticipation in hands, and opens the chest that contains the object of his covetousness.

Claude takes the bow in hand. It’s perfect, powerful yet doesn’t use any crest power. It’s undeniable that such a weapon shall better be in their hands than in the enemy’s, and this is exactly why Claude will keep this discovery to himself.

The horn resonates; they have won, as expected, and with few casualties, ones Marianne and Mercedes will have no trouble to deal with. A small price to pay for such treasure.

Or so he thought.

Claude flies back to their camp along with the Immortals, following the rest of the troop’s pace, his eyes never really leaving Dimitri – he gasps, and tries hard to conceal it. It seems he got hit by an arrow near the end of battle, and Claude is as much upset about the fact that he didn’t see it coming that by the existence of the wound itself.

He joins him in his tent as soon as he lands. His armour, tainted with blood from his enemies, lies on the ground. Mercedes is healing his wounds. It’s deeper than he thought, Claude forces a smile.

“Your Kingliness! Let me tell you something; you were radiant in battle, even from my spot, so close to the Heavens.”

“It’s a shame the information you gave us turned out to be incorrect again Claude. Cornelia was nowhere to be seen.”

The smile contorts. “Ah, what can I say? My spies aren’t as trustworthy as yours I’m afraid, and I propose that we no longer rely on them.” His eyes rest on the blood stain the arrow painted on his bare shoulder. If anything, it’s a sinister reminder that however clever he thinks he is, Claude is not almighty, and he cannot predict everything and especially not the unforeseeable. “Could you make any prisoner? Perhaps one of them knows where she has gone. We’re in the Western Church territory after all, they were her most powerful allies.”

Dimitri winces when Mercedes bandages his shoulder with gauze. Claude watches from the entrance of the tent, almost religiously, how she rolls the bandage on his skin, as it covers old scars he sometimes knows the origin of. Some others, Dimitri never told him about their genesis, but Claude has learned them all, with time. Claude perhaps knows the imperfection of Dimitri’s skin better than his own, and his gaze is tented with envy as he watches Mercedes taking care of him so softly, with such gentle care. She’ll do the same with any of them, of course, he knows that but it’s Dimitri, it’s not the same.

She exits as soon as her work is done, walking a bit too hastily to the exit. She passes by him with her usual smile, but which doesn’t meet her eyes, and she avoids his gaze as well. Claude looks back at Dimitri when they’re alone, who stares at the ground, at the arrow that almost cost him his arm, and Claude suddenly wonders as he reflects on Mercedes’s prompt departure.

Do they know about them? About what they do once they close the tent? Is it why she’s avoiding them?

“Let me look.” Claude kneels between Dimitri’s leg, a hand on his still clothed thigh and another caressing the bandages so softly. Dimitri turns his head away. Claude takes that opportunity to drop a kiss on the covered wound. “Does it hurt?”

“Barely.” Dimitri is tough, he never lets his pain appear as expected of a King, but not so much as a lover – Claude sometimes wonders if it’s a matter of pride or of trust, and if he were in Dimitri’s shoes, he’d choose the latter. It’s another part of him that he admires but frustrates him at the same time. He’s so strong, so solid, so reassuring yet it’s like he never takes off his armour, metaphorically, in front of Claude, when Claude yearns to know what lies under the steel, yearns to possess every bit of Dimitri he can reach.

The crook of his neck is a good place to start. He kisses it gently at first, his lips smoothing the apparent non-existent pain away but when Dimitri doesn’t react, doesn’t pull him away or barely sighs, Claude feels the frustration boiling in his veins once more. He hates indifference, especially from Dimitri and if there’s one thing the King unexpectedly taught him, it’s his propensity to feel impatience and exasperation, and his inability to control any of it.

His hand grasps harsher on his thigh, his mouth sucks harshly on his skin, without warning. Claude bites, his fingers aim to leave bruises Dimitri will say come from battles, and only when teeth flirt too close from breaching his skin does he stop Claude.

“Not now.” He orders.

But Claude isn’t good at obeying, that’s another quality his unorthodox relationship with Dimitri taught him about himself, which he actually kind of likes, for a change.

He licks on Dimitri’s neck up to his ear, his breath is hot, he whines, “Why not? Are you still scared they’ll find out?”

“Nothing frightens me, especially not my men. But now is hardly the time to inflict them with your unquenchable thirst on my person. I already told you, I don’t want them to know.”

“Liar.” Claude caresses Dimitri’s cock through the fabric of his pants, disappointed to find it so soft despite his presence. “You like it better when I scream. You want them to know.” He speaks quietly.

“I don’t. Claude, please, I expect Sylvain or Felix to come anytime now.”

Yet he doesn’t push him away when Claude kisses him fully, a hand still fondling him, bringing his arousal back to life. “Does it turn you on? That we might get caught? I’ve been thinking this might be the case…I can scream louder for you, if you want.”

“Claude-“

There’s always so much contradiction between what Dimitri says and does, to him, with him. Sometimes Claude imagines there’s two of them inside his head, two Dimitri wanting antinomic things and reacts the exact opposite to what Claude provokes. His voice says no, his lips take his, his tongue invades Claude’s mouth, he asks him to go away but grasps on his hair and pulls him closer, he wants him go and so far yet requires his warmth when night comes. It’s nothing but a sign of mistrust, Claude figured out this much before they even started, but is it towards Claude or Dimitri himself he cannot be sure. It doesn’t bother him in the end, because for Claude words mean nothing, they can hold no meaning and he often abuses them himself, but the passion he puts in a kiss can never lie, lovers’ caresses as well. Claude knows he’s wanted, and wants Dimitri to be aware of the reciprocity to the inside of his bones.

Dimitri sucks on his tongue, saliva runs from both of their mouths; it’s messy and dirty and exactly how they both want it.

They hear footsteps coming from the entrance. Claude gets on his feet and combs his hair on the spot while Dimitri cleans his mouth. As he walks to the exit, his head high and proud, Claude sends a polite smile to Sylvain who enters the Royal tent. From all the people here Sylvain is the one Claude appreciates the most, but also puzzles him to no end; he seems to see all and understands everything that is left unsaid, he could be the master of it all, keeping secrets and blackmailing half the Kingdom if he ever wanted to but seems not to care a second. Claude envies him at times. People here don’t trust him enough. Even back at home, it has always been the case.

Perhaps there’s something with his face.

In any case, Sylvain returns his smile with an equal hypocrite one; on the other hand Felix doesn’t find the effort worth trying, Claude meets the usual daggers his eyes send his way, hoping that he’ll never have to taste the steel of his sword again. Claude doesn’t like him much but at least he’s easy to trust; he never hides what he has in mind and Claude finds it to be a precious quality for an ally, even if at some point, aforesaid ally had wanted him dead, and perhaps still does. He can understand the animosity well, and he smiles wilder when he passes by him.

He understands a little bit more each day why people changed the way they look at him.

Claude crosses the Kingdom’s camp with an assured stride, his eyes set on his own tent that remains empty way too often. It shows. With time he gets more and more into the Kingdom’s leadership. What started as a plea from his part evolved into Claude giving assistance to the very people who initially saved him from the Empire’s deadly axes, making his advices irreplaceable, his foreigner’s vision on the conflict useful by its uniqueness and, the thing he’s the most proud of for now, he made himself desirable to one of the most frigid man he had met so far. Truly, it had been harder to get into Dimitri’s bed than surviving all this time in Almyra without help but in the end all men are the same, pushed with the right button they will do exactly what Claude wants of them.

And Dimitri follows this example superbly.

They know. The whole camp knows about them, because Claude isn’t subtle at all and never wanted to be and Dimitri, well, he doesn’t quite know what Dimitri wants from this. In the end Dimitri only succumbed because Claude was able to create in his core a need only he could fill, he did everything in his power to be indispensable and the worst, or the beauty of it, depending on where you stand, is that they both know it. In a way Claude thinks it’s what lost Dimitri in the end. He liked the idea of being a prey, for once, he enjoyed the challenge before he lost, he thought he could win against Claude, but chose to lose willingly, even if he will never acknowledge this shameful weakness of his.

Just as Claude will never accept he lost to Dimitri as well.

Hilda awaits him, her hand on her hip. “Claude, they searched the tent.”

From this moment, Claude knows the honeymoon is over.

If he expected the mistrust he never thought they would make it so apparent. It’s a warning at best. “Did they find anything?”

“Is there anything to find?” Hilda asks with her eyebrow raised to the heavens. Goddess, she knows him so well, why does she ask for a confession now? “I hope not, Claude, we’re at war. It’s not a game.”

“It never was.”

“Even I noticed you acted weird during this battle. I swear I never saw Felix this enraged against you.”

Claude takes a seat near his desk. His fingers play with a bunch of grapes and fruits he brought from Derdriu – Dimitri is so fond of those. “He’s jealous. Let him be mad – the more he is, the best it looks for me.”

Hilda rolls her eyes and comes to his side. She takes the grapes out of his hand. “This is a serious matter! People are starting to see you’re screwing with Dimitri to manipulate him as you please.”

“And so what? What are they going to do about it, hn? They are powerless. The Kingdom needs our troops, and Dimitri needs me. We’re like their right arm and leg, they can’t get rid of us if they want to get moving forward.”

His logic is absolute. Dimitri is curled around his little finger. He’s untouchable. He won’t tolerate anything else anyway, he can’t afford it.

They couldn’t bury all their dead during the day. To lose the fewest time against the Empire they burned the remaining corpse at midnight after they made sure to register every soldier that fell today because of Claude’s fake hint. The bow he hid from everyone’s view sure weighs heavier now, but in a couple of months perhaps the deaths its retirement have cost would soon be forgotten when Claude offers them victory. People need to think far ahead. They lack the sight of a most global picture.

Dimitri stands in front of the blaze. The flames illuminate part of his face. Claude can’t stare away.

“Are you feeling any better?”

They know. Everyone knows. They all walk away when Claude approaches their King. Everyone withdraws when he wanders in the camp. It’s suffocating yet oddly addicting.

“Never said I wasn’t feeling good.”

“You took an arrow in your left shoulder. It could have hit your heart.” The thought makes his head spin. Perhaps Hilda is right, perhaps he should be more careful of his whim next time.

“Some of my men died today.” Dimitri doesn’t stare back at him, his eyes are lost in the flames, embers, and Claude wonders at times if he sees them. Ghosts. He wonders if he hears them still.

Claude moves closer to his side, that’s the only proof of affection he’ll give away in plain sight but it’s enough. Dimitri and him speak the same non verbal language. They understand each other’s gentleness in the delicacy of their touches.

“They searched my tent.” Claude says after a while.

Dimitri remains silent. The fire that reflects in his eye colours his iris with red.

“Hilda was there. She witnessed it all.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Claude clenches his fists, mainly because he can’t tell if Dimitri knew about it or even ordered it, or if he discovered it with his confession.

“This is clearly a message that was meant for me. Next time, I would rather prefer we discuss this sort of trivial matter before you violated my humble residency. If you have something to tell me, say it in my face. I trust you see it often enough to find an opportunity of your liking.”

“I have nothing to reproach out of you.” Dimitri turns his head to him for a few seconds before returning to the fire in front of them. It’s dying down. “Even if I did, you know all that my heart wants to hide before I am even aware of it.”

When it’s dark enough so that Dimitri’s face is hidden by the darkness Claude watches the embers turn into ashes. It’s cold now. The wind blows dust of men on their boots.

Dimitri’s little finger brushes against his own. “I’ll talk to them.”

Claude curls his little finger around Dimitri’s. “Thank you.”

It’s as far as they go for a sensual dance. None has the patience or the will to wait when they both know what they want.

Dimitri brings him to his tent, on his bed. He gets him naked. They have sex, roughly, Dimitri covering his mouth with his gloved hand to hush his moans. Once he recovers from the intercourse, before Claude finds back the strength to get up and clean the mess between his legs Dimitri leaves his side and brings a fruit basket to the bed. He hands it to Claude.

“What do you want to do now?” He asks. Claude takes a single grape, slowly runs it on his swollen lips. His eyes stare at Dimitri, his desires are easily painting on his face. 

“Eat?” The grape disappears inside his mouth and Claude leans in, his lips brushing against Dimitri’s, teasing. Dimitri accepts the kiss, accepts the offering, to be fed this way. The grape juice falls on their chin and the bed when Dimitri’s teeth bite on it, and Claude licks what remains before taking another one in his mouth. He does the same with a date, chewing on it and taking the pit out before sharing it with Dimitri. Their mouths get sticky, their fingers too. So far it looks like any other night.

“You sure you don’t have anything else in mind?” Be it because of the wound on his shoulder, Dimitri has lost his usual ardour tonight. As much as Claude likes to tease him for a second round, he’s not supposed to be this blunt, or reclining to do so.

Instead Dimitri drops a gentle kiss on his lips. Perhaps tonight he’s had enough. “You sound like you’re the one thinking of something.”

“I always do.” Claude returns the kiss more vigorously, he’s hungry still. His hand caresses the fresh scar on his shoulder. “Does it hurt still?”

“No, not anymore.” Dimitri kisses the side of his nose, his temple, he rests his mouth there for a while and Claude knows he’s thinking of something, perhaps he’s looking for something to ask of Claude.

“So you acknowledge you lied to me before.” 

Dimitri takes his chin and brings it in front of his face, his eyes severe, his hand strong. “You said it barely hurt earlier today.” Claude clarifies with his usual assurance, despite their configuration. Dimitri will never hurt him, at least not physically, at least not consciously. It is true he hates that word, ‘lie’, he’s suffered so much from it in the past and Claude has kind of a history with it as well, one he has had trouble erasing to get into this bed. It’s a word that makes Dimitri’s demons resurface in the blink of an eye, making it a powerful word Claude uses and abuses to get Dimitri exactly in the state of mind he wants him to be.

“What do you propose we do then?” Comes the change, and Claude does everything he can not to grin, satisfied and oh so happy about himself. His chest swells with pride.

“You can tie my wrist above my head. And my ankles to the bed. You can gag me, or blind me.”

“No,” Dimitri takes his mouth, his teeth dangerously flirting with the softness of the tender flesh. “I want to kiss you. I want to see your eyes. I want your hands on me.”

This leaves them with a very few choices, or perhaps it’s time Claude experiments something new. “I can tie you, for a change. Restrain your hands and legs as I ride you.”

He watches as Dimitri’s blue eye blows wide with lust and anticipation, the sight runs a chill down his spine. Dimitri is used to fuck him with ropes and laces around Claude’s limbs, but they never adventured with the reverse configuration before. Will Dimitri even accept the restrain? Does he trust Claude enough to be utterly vulnerable under his touch?

The excitation is gone all too suddenly when the exact same thoughts run in Dimitri’s mind and puts the thought aside. He pushes him on his back, the fruit basket falls and empties on the ground. “Ride me.” He murmurs, his voice low against his ear and it has the same effect the desire in his eye had earlier, if not more. Each of his nasty word sends Claude to oblivion before he has the time to be touched, and it’s how he finds out that he is addicted to this just as much as Dimitri is, or at least as much as he hopes he made him, for it was the initial plan before it got absolutely out of control.

Dimitri kisses his neck, careful of where he’ll leave love bites not to give away their affair, Claude sighs. He wanted his hands tied. To be immobilized utterly, the slave of Dimitri’s moods, to have no other choice but to endure, to submit to any of his will, to have nothing to think or care about but pleasuring him and being pleasured in return. In times of war, moments when he can entirely unwind are so rare, and under Dimitri’s touches and strength Claude sometimes achieves this exploit, or rather they do together. Dimitri does exactly what he needs to get hard the quicker possible before Claude can sit on him, he caresses his skin and his hands soon find his ass that he already abused, where bruises from his spanks will probably appear by tomorrow, which hurt a bit already. Claude knows Dimitri’s body by heart and considers his duty to arouse him as best as he can with his moans and fingertips running on his spine, the muscle of his lower back, on his inner thighs. Dimitri is so easy to get hard. Claude sometimes wonders if he’s like this with each one of his lovers or if it’s just with him. He wonders if it’s because he knows Claude will let him do literally anything to him while they’re having sex like beast, hidden in his tent.

“Ride me.” He takes Claude’s waist and changes their position. Claude is too happy to oblige and Dimitri’s cock slides in him so easily. He puts his hands on Dimitri’s stomach for balance and watches as Dimitri does nothing but watch him, his untouched groin, his slender waist, the bruises he left from their previous night that haven’t totally disappear, Claude’s parted lips, the sweat on his face that makes his skin glitter, he stares at his eyes, expecting something extraordinary always, out of him. And just like that Claude snaps, he puts all his worries away and nothing else matters than Dimitri inside him and to hell with Edelgard, the war, the deaths he caused, the Kingdom’s army searching his tent, to hell with all this. Claude rides him like crazy, Dimitri has to force his hand into his mouth to shut him up once his moans get too loud for his liking, and sometimes shifts them with his tongue, hungry. It tastes of dates and grapes. He grasps at the back of his neck when he comes inside him again. He trusts in, it’s messy, just like his kisses, it’s wet and dirty and exactly how Claude loves it. Each time Dimitri leaves him boneless brings him closer to Heaven.

The next morning Lorenz comes to his tent. “The prisoners talked.” He says, blankly.

As he expected his hunch was once again right. They gained information about Cornelia but nothing they didn’t know before. It should suffice to ease Felix’s mood a bit, since he’s mostly the head of the animosity Claude feels towards him. Yet, the information doesn’t travel fast enough. Or rather another one got to Dimitri’s ear faster than Claude could have anticipated, and this is what in the end causes his temporary fall. Lack of communication, he’ll call it later. He’s not sure he appreciates the irony.

Claude is summoned into Dimitri’s tent. Claude walks confident, as always, after all even if the timing is highly suspicious, for Dimitri never asks for his presence this early, he’s so sure he can find a way to walk out of any misstep that he doesn’t feel frighten, one bit, not by Felix’s blade under his chin, not by the sight of his new bow in Dimitri’s hand, but perhaps a bit when his eyes meet his and sees in it something he would have preferred not to.

Pain. Distrust. Old friends of Dimitri that Claude fought in the past and won against, but at which price?

“Leave us alone.” His voice is low, it’s threatening in a way Claude hasn’t heard before. Dedue, Sylvain and Ashe exit the tent, Felix does stay behind a bit but a glance from Dimitri forces him to leave as well. Dimitri plays with the cord of the bow, Claude’s mind is already racing, trying to pick the brightest idea as to why he possesses such a relic before he can guess what Dimitri knows of it.

But to have him summoned, threatened when they have been the one doing him harm, by searching – stealing – his goods, must mean they know enough for Claude to be in a tough position – worse, if Dimitri asks of his men to leave them alone, it could mean there’s something even worse coming for him.

“This is such a nice bow you got yourself. Where did you find it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in your hands before.”

Claude is tempted to lie about its provenance. But it’s easy to have it expertise later and the locals would know about its origin, and perhaps someone saw him taking it from the battlefield, he knows a couple of his men did after all – Felix will question them if he doesn’t give the answer they expect from him, it’s a risk he cannot take, not for his troops.

“I found it in the lake. Actually, I was considering gifting it to-“

“In the midst of battle, while we were looking for prisoners to make and so many of my men were killed you found the time to search for such a rare object?”

Claude briefly looks at Dimitri’s left shoulder, shame passing through his eyes, but he shoves the feeling away easily. It is not a time to be sentimental, because Dimitri certainly isn’t. “As you said, I happen to  _ find  _ it in the midst of battle. I don’t remember exactly how.”

“Liar.”

Dimitri throws the bow on the ground, almost breaking it and shoves on Claude. He takes him by the collar. “When I took the arrow I looked up in the sky, wondering where you had gone, and why you weren’t protecting me like you swore you would, always. You weren’t there.”

It’s a promise he made one of the first nights Dimitri allowed him in his bed. Sex had been tender, it was before Claude initiated him to more guilty pleasure of his and he would always remember the look on Dimitri’s face when he said he would always have his back, no matter what.

“I thought the threat was gone for good.” He says, and he truly means it. There is no way he would have left Dimitri unprotected if he weren’t sure he was perfectly safe, but he isn’t perfect, none of them are. “I was gathering my troops when I saw something shining in the lake.”

“We tried to find your spy. He’s nowhere to be seen.”

Claude takes a deep breath. Dimitri is taking a road that smells too much like trouble. “What a bad spy would he be if he were easy to find?”

“Claude. Each one of the ideas you suggested to me ended up with you gaining something from it.”

“It ended up in victory!” Claude rectifies. They won, each time, each battle brought them closer to their goal, to Edelgard’s head rolling from her shoulders.

“But men died! Women died! People who trusted me pulled their swords and yelled my name as they defended my interest, and for what? For that?” Dimitri kicked the bow on the other side of the tent. Claude could tell he was furious. “Tell me where your spy is, so we can settle this. It should be easy for you, right? If indeed your information were true, then at least they didn’t die for naught.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I won’t let anyone die in vain.” If his convictions certainly aren’t as strong and radiant as Dimitri’s, Claude still has principles. But now is not the ideal time to explain how they can use this bow in battle against Edelgard. Claude prepares to go out and seek for a man that could lie easily and take a lot of information in a short amount of time. He must have some real spy under his sleeve to serve this point after all, but where are they?

“You’ll remain here, Claude. Ingrid will look for them. Tell me their name.”

Claude chuckles. “You know I cannot do that.”

This earns him another forceful grip on his collar. Dimitri’s gauntleted hands, curled into fist, so close to his throat. “Claude. I beg you.” But it sounds more like a threat, Claude is running out of options. “Don’t prove them right. Please, I beg you. I want to be able to trust you with my life. Don’t deceive me, I won’t handle it.”

He hushes the last part, the strength on his grip disappearing when Claude takes his wrists and lowers them, his lips tasting Dimitri’s softly. It’s the strongest thing they share, this essential bond of trust between them, one they learn in bed, essential for their safety and which Claude has perhaps abused one time too many outside the tent.

“You have my absolute trust, always and forever. No matter what you think, what they say, please remember I am nothing but devoted to you.” He kisses him again a bit more desperately than his usual composure would want of him and Dimitri feels, in this subtle change, that something is off more than any words his men told him before. He pulls him away.

“Claude. I need a name.”

“You know you won’t have it. We’re at war. We’re allies as long as Edelgard stands alive, but we agree on it already, we don’t share our intellect-“

“Claude!” Dimitri shouts, “His name, or you’re out!”

“Out?” Claude repeats. What does he mean by that? Out of his tent? Dimitri won’t last a week without crawling back to him, begging for the thing only Claude can give him.

“You. Your army. Everything that reminds me of you. If I cannot trust you, no, if you fooled me, since the moment you entered this tent, the moment you…you forced yourself into my bed-“

“No, I didn’t; you let me in.” Claude corrects him. He’ll gladly admit his fault, that perhaps he has had others aims that weren’t as noble as Dimitri’s, but he won’t let Dimitri demolish what they have and reduce it to Claude merely manipulating him, till Dimitri let him climb under his silky bed sheets. “You wanted me here as much as I did.”

“You flirted with me, you enchanted me; what other choice was left for me?” Dimitri asks, his voice still heavy with doubt. “You’re so stunning you can have anyone you want. I should have figured out long ago you were up to something. They all told me to be wary of you, Claude, but my weak heart was too happy to think your true smiles were only mine to see to let go of you.”

Claude frowns, eyebrows meeting halfway at the birth of his nose. “What are you talking about? I was merely courting you, yes; usually it starts like this before we fuck like rabbits.”

Dimitri lets out a frustrated sigh, his eye rolls to the Heavens.

“What did you say about ‘figure it out’? I’m afraid I can’t catch your trails of thinking this time.”

“That would be a first.” Dimitri talks with spite. It’s been long minutes now, at this point Claude has to face the possibility that he won’t be able to calm him down with words only, like he so often did in the past, but in this state of mind there’s no way Dimitri will let him approach him.

“Dimitri.” He calls him. He has been silent for some time, he looks at anywhere but Claude, he bites the top of his thumb with his mouth half closed. “Dimitri, talk to me.”

He looks his way again. “I’m the King. It means I can have anyone I want. Remember when you told me that?” Oh yes, how could he have forgotten such a perfect night? “It was just before you cleverly suggested that we should ‘spice things up’ a little.”

“I also said I was glad you chose me, if I remember correctly.” His fists curl at his side, as Claude has the unpleasant feelings all he has achieved within the moons, working with Dimitri, acquiring his trust arduously, all is crumbling to his feet like a sand castle, all because of one bow, one arrow, one misplaced glance of Felix or anyone else who doesn’t fancy him here. A little misstep, a folly, a surge of vanity and the most precious thing could vanish, escape his grip; Dimitri’s trust is a diamond, raw pure and perfect, and it lies in the basement of their relationship – of everything they have built. “I’m still honoured you did, so please, Dimitri,” he hushes the last part, his steps bring him close to the King, “What has gotten you? Come back to your senses, I demand this of you.”

“Have you ever lied to me?”

Dimitri holds his arm, the grip is tight, it hurts, Claude clenches his jaw not to let it show. “Of course I did.” He’s not foolish enough to affirm the opposite, he’s known to manipulate people with his pretty mouth, no matter what he does with it, in order to achieve his goal after all, and that’s exactly what he’s paying right now. “War isn’t all cute pony and pink cakes, your Kingliness.”

“When?” Claude holds his breath, this is where the tendinous decision resides. “Did you lie to me since you’ve told me you loved me?”

“I love you. That is not a lie, and I forbid you to think otherwise.” Claude’s voice is low but he makes sure Dimitri can hear his wrath.

Dimitri pulls on his arm, their chest colliding. “Tell me!” He yells, frustrated once more than Claude doesn’t obey him like anyone else does, forgetting too that it’s one of the reasons he’s so essential to his well being.

But what can Claude say, when he lied to him as soon as he entered his tent? Another lie, piled on all the others, Claude walks on an unsteady road and the more he lies, the more the path he chose to follow seems to wish for his failure.

Lorenz unexpectedly saves him from Dimitri’s murderous glare. He enters the tent along with Sylvain and a prisoner. Lorenz throws him at Dimitri’s feet. “Perhaps it is not what you wanted, King Dimitri, but I hope it will dissipate the trouble of your heart concerning our alliance. Be reassured of the honesty we pour into the fight. None of us here, despite who our fathers are, wants to see Edelgard reign on Fódlan.”

With their audience Dimitri has no choice but to let go of Claude’s arm, but he does reluctantly. All ignore what matter of trust is at stake here, and deep inside Claude hopes it doesn’t go as far as doubting their military alliance to the core of its existence.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you have him.” Claude says, aware Sylvain will most likely catch the double meaning before Dimitri can. “He already spit out everything to me earlier.”

But it’s just another lie, one he told to hurt. Claude escapes from the heavy atmosphere Dimitri set inside his tent and takes a deep breath of fresh air, only for his eyes to fall on Felix as soon as he opens them again. They’re as sharp as knives. If a look could kill, Felix would still be their best weapon.

Once in his quarter Claude wanders, knowing too well of what awaits him in his tent – Hilda – and what she will want to talk about – Dimitri – and so, escaping from this interview as well, Claude searches for a familiar yet neutral face, the one of Marianne, or Ignaz perhaps. He finds them around a cooking pot in an intersection with the troops they lead, Marianne serving the disgusting porridge they’ve been eating for days. War isn’t gentle on them. They barely have enough bread to come back to the capital. Bodies are tired, minds are exhausted, after all Dimitri is as much a man as anybody else and he might be under pressure, Claude idly thinks. It’s just a phase. Tonight, he’ll ask, beg for him to join his tent once everyone’s eyes would be closed, or turned elsewhere. Tonight Claude will reaffirm his love and trust, and Dimitri will have no other choice but to trust him back.

But that time never comes.

Claude walks to the tent, a coat Dimitri gifted him on his shoulders as to prove the people of the Kingdom of how much close he is to their King’s heart. Dedue blocks him the way. “He asked not to see you.”

“Are you sure?” Claude tilts his head, trying to have a glimpse of what’s happening inside – is Dimitri having a meeting with his subordinates? – but doesn’t dare more. He knows Dedue is not someone he can put in his pocket.

“I am absolutely sure. He ordered me not to let you in, at all cost.”

Claude chuckles, an easy smile on his face to chase the pain away. “That won’t be necessary. Just tell him I have some spare herbal tea from Derdriu, if he wants any. He can come see me.”

“He won’t, Claude.”

“Never say never.” Claude replies as he walks by, the smile he wore quickly morphing into a thin line. This might be a bit more complicated than he first anticipated.

The following day it’s none but Sylvain that informs him of their next destination. They are coming back to Fhirdiad.

“Thank you for letting me know, my friend.” They both know it’s a sign of distrust, a dishonour even that Dimitri didn’t come here himself to deliver the news, but Claude wants to show his good side, and that whatever comes through Dimitri’s mind he’ll forgive him, always, no matter how deep he wounds him. “By the way, what have you done to the prisoner?”

It’s an inquiry Sylvain cannot back off. “Felix cut his throat once he finished talking. Seems some of your information was right.” In the end, he almost adds. It doesn’t explain why Dimitri plays hide and seek with him still. The idea gnaws on his nerves. He feels ants under his palms, his feet, they run under his skin and tear it apart from his flesh.

Dimitri’s absence is all the more striking as the day goes by; Claude aches for a touch, the warmth of his eye on him, even just a spark of desire would do, yet his eyes only meet with the back of his coat or his most faithful lieutenants, and none let him pass to his most closed guard – namely Felix, who barely leaves his side, not even to take a piss, Claude remarks and it irks him in more than the ants under his skin.

Before they depart Claude thinks he has the perfect opportunity to speak to him – after all, they need to coordinate their troops, they’ll have to communicate at some point, won’t they? Dimitri stands only a couple of metres away, he talks with Felix about something and it’s the first time today that Claude sees his face, his eye, his lips. Already it feels easier to breathe.

“If I were you,” if Felix never leaves Dimitri’s side it seems Sylvain is tasked with the same kind of duty with him, “I won’t do that.”

Claude raises an eyebrow. He speaks loud enough to be heard. “May I inquire why, as the leader of the Alliance of Lei-“

“You’re cleverer than that. You know the Alliance is not the problem.” Claude follows Sylvain’s gaze that sets where his friend Felix stands and fatally on Dimitri, and Dimitri for a single second looks up to Claude, their eyes meet. Claude offers him a smile while Dimitri looks away.

Felix nudges him. Dimitri says sorry.

“His Majesty said we should keep you away at all cost. Felix takes his duty very seriously.”

“Is that a threat?”

Claude cannot believe it. Just for a single bow? What has he done that could cost him his life?

Did they blame him for the arrow Dimitri took by his mistake?

“Oh wouldn’t say that.” Sylvain says idly, his arms behind his head. “But I heard Felix said it’s your payback.”

Claude chuckles but this time without malice. He drops the mask, this is definitely a threat.

“You’re all out of your minds.”

“You know, Claude, I actually like you. Not the same way His Majesty does of course, but you’re a nice fellow. I don’t have any idea of what caused this slightly change in his behaviour, but if I find out your actions hurt him,” Sylvain grasps his shoulder, tightly, “Then you’ll have to worry about someone else on top of Felix.”

To honour the remaining of their superficial friendship, Claude doesn’t laugh his threat away. If people he considered, childishly perhaps, to be his allies want him dead now, they all need to know what kind of man Claude can be when pushed around a corner.

Dimitri avoids him the whole ride back to the Capital. Claude’s back hurts from being too tense on his Wyvern, and even Hilda’s massage can’t ease the pain away when they used to be the only thing he would bet his life on. The day before they arrive, he gathers the Alliance’s troops before they depart.

“Don’t drink from the Kingdom’s water.” He warms them. A couple of weeks ago he would have been horrified to even have thought of such an awful scheme. It’s crazy how much pain and hurt pride can turn a man into the demon he swore never to be. He misses him. Fuck, he misses Dimitri so much it physically hurts. There’s something behind his breastbone that aches so horribly, be it a weight as some authors had written, or a hole, or his heart bleeding and screaming about injustice, about treason, his sight blinded by rage and despair, so much that Claude forgets all of what is currently happening is purely the consequence of his own errors and misjudges of characters, be it of Dimitri or himself. He had sown the wind too soon, and now fears the whirlwind.

Lorenz and Hilda run after him. “Claude. This is getting too far.” Lorenz, out of all of them, reprimands him.

“You think so? I thought you’ll see where I’m aiming.”

“What good in hurting our friends?” Hilda whispers. Which is an exploit considering how mad she looks.

“Friends? Where? They started it Hilda,  _ they searched my tent _ .” He mutters, because in the end it is where all of Claude’s problems started, and certainly not when he decided to abuse the power he had on the Kingdom’s decisional head. “We’re mostly providential allies, and when this war is over who knows what kind of nasty tricks they’ll put on us when they won’t even need us anymore.”

“It’s true that their sly intrusion was unacceptable and demands reparation.” Lorenz says, a hand on his hip, “But still, poisoning their water?”

“You don’t need to worry, it’s nothing too nasty, just something to upset their stomach. It’s untraceable, no one will be able to prove him behind it.”

“But it’ll have your name written all over it.” Hilda says, unimpressed.

“But that’s precisely the point! The Lions showed us their crows, it’s our turn to show them that, as friendly as we might all be, they need to fear the deer as well.”

Since playing nice didn’t work before Claude needs to show his talents. He wants them to fear him, to think twice before they taste anything, because what can Claude put next time in their beverage? Would it be something more powerful, less enjoyable, deadly even? The possibilities with poisons are endless, this is why Claude is so fond of them.

When Lorenz seems satisfied with this plan Hilda literally fulminates and takes him by the arm apart from the groups. Her grip hurts, but at least she’s there – she will never betray him, even if Claude sometimes takes her opposition as an offence, it’s always for his sake, and out of worry.

“I’m noy buying it.” She pesters.

“What do you mean?”

“Dimitri,” Claude sighs and tries to walk away, but Hilda is not one he can escape easily. “You’ve barely talked.”

“Barely? You meant not at all.”

“Oh.” She looks apologetically, her mouth forms an adorable pout. “You’ve stopped fucking too.”

Oh, Claude is tired. “And?”

“You’re taking your revenge on them. On the ones who force this distance, who planted the seed of distrust into his mind.” Little does she know Claude is at least as much responsible for this one that Felix, or if she does know, she chose her camp long ago and is blinded to some truth – no one is perfect, and it’ll be foolish to think people can be utterly objective. “As much as I admit it must feel so good at the moment, Claude, the Alliance’s future is on the line, we cannot let that happen. You’re out of your mind!”

“I figured that if Lorenz could buy my little speech I could get away with it; but once more you beat him at being the perfect right hand for me. Why aren’t you, by the way?”

“Oh, please. We have this conversation at least twice a day.” It’s her turn to sigh. She remains silent for a while, biting on her lips. “I have to admit you had a point. What would they think of us if we keep getting hit without reposting? What if their ambition was fast beyond killing Edelgard, what if they want to unify Fódlan and attack us once we turn our back?”

The worst is that of course Claude is right, but he doesn’t care. After all, now that he has learned to know him he’s so sure it’s not something Dimitri will do. Heck, it’ll never even cross his mind. It’s hard for Claude to acknowledge his wrath, which is so unlike him – he had plenty of reason to be angry, since childhood and even beyond but he had always managed to stay composed, so why now? Is it because of his parasitic feelings? Because he’s in love, or thinks he could be?

Claude spends the whole ride back with his fists holding on the reign too tight. As soon as they reach the capital most of the Kingdom’s troops rush to the infirmary; some had to stop even before to empty their stomach and bowels in plain nature. The satisfaction is brief and disappointing. Really not worth so much effort.

“…Food poisoning, maybe?” He tells Annette when she asks what could have happened to concern so many of their men and none on Claude’s side. He knows she’ll believe him, she had remained in Fhirdiad this time to work on a powerful spell along with Lysithea, for a next battle, and knows nothing of his misfortune. Claude admires her enthusiasm, which never falters even in times of war, and he’s so glad she keeps singing while cooking, or sewing, or cleaning – he watches her for long minutes whenever he has time, aforesaid time that would probably be extended since Dimitri still refuses to see him. They even changed the disposition of his room, and his alone, which now is the furthest they could find to the master of the castle. Another perfectly clear message for him.

Claude’s little caprice has the exact effect Hilda foresaw; if none of the generals accuse Claude of this mischief his name is on every minds, in every whisper in the dining hall, and people suspect Kingdom’s and Alliance’s heads are stabbing each other in the back for all the wrong reasons. Because they have a war to win and as much as they’d like to pretend it’ll be easy it’s really not. They are disadvantaged; everybody, be they cooks or stablemen or maids, knows it.

But overall what Leonie and Ignaz tell Claude is reassuring. Most of the troops hope that their bickering will end and wish things to go back to normal. Claude cares about their opinion because it’s another weapon he can use against those who want him gone; they are all rational men after all and the ball is now in their court. If Claude promises never to influence Dimitri again perhaps they can come back to what they used to be – or at least he’ll let him talk to him, explain himself better than he did previously, and if Dimitri hears him, Claude is sure he can bring him back to something reasonable between them.

It’s with this idea in mind that Claude walks to Dimitri’s room the next day. He’s been summoned, which first filled him with an extreme joy and self-satisfaction, but each steps that brings him closer to his ultimate goal feels heavier the more he advances, and the small faction welcoming him – Dedue, Felix, Sylvain, not the best of friends, especially as for late – does nothing to ease his nervousness. Whatever awaits him beside this door, he can handle it, twist it again in his favour, that he is sure of – but is he, really? He was so sure Dimitri couldn’t spend a single day without kissing him and look at them now, it’s been half a week and Claude almost feels like begging for touch, even just holding his shoulder, he’ll go in his knees for so little.

It’s even more noticeable when he stands before him. Dimitri sits against the window and looks at the city from his spot, his head lazy against the stone. Claude craves him. The mere sight of him affects him in ways he could never imagine before they were forced apart, the loss and the want it created within the days turning his body into a hot mess now that Dimitri is at arm’s reach. It by-passes his brain that he so often finds remarkable, his feet walk on their own to what he had missed so much and needs, so desperately.

Dimitri looks bad, awful even. Claude can’t decide if it’s a bad thing or not – was he a collateral victim of Claude’s scheme again, or is it because of the loss of his presence? Claude hopes it’s the latter, after all he didn’t see him at the infirmary and none of his men saw him sick. He hopes Dimitri craves him just the same, and couldn’t resist the urge to see him today.

They also need to talk about their next move, but that’s a detail.

Claude is too enraptured to notice Dimitri not even bait an eyelid when he steps closer. He has to wait until his hand, gloved, threatens his face with his forefinger – he brushes in his cheekbone for a second before Dimitri first leans on the touch, but then takes his wrist to shove his hand away, all in the same second. Good, he doesn’t know what he wants – or he knows what needs to be done but can’t find the strength to do so, this is something Claude can understand, and work on.

“I miss you.” He should have said. Instead, the words “Have you stopped sulking?” Come out of his mouth.

Not that it would have changed the course of events.

“Yes, no. I don’t know if I’m sulking or just extremely disappointed.”

“Heartbroken?” Claude proposes.

“Something like that, yes.”

Okay, why not? Claude can repair it. I’ll try anyway.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you these past few days, about the night we shared after the battle of Derdriu.” He turns to him, stares at him in the eyes for the first time in ages, Claude holds his breath. “You wanted to leave and I made you stay. How?”

These memories will always have a special place in Claude’s heart, “You had convincing arguments, I guess?”

“My face?” Dimitri asks.

“No!” Claude laughs, charmed always by Dimitri’s unexpected candour. “No, not so soon at least. I’m not an easy lay, despite what you think on the matter.”

“Why then?”

Claude never anticipated this kind of conversation. Yet the words get out smoothly, because they come from his heart, and it’s something honest he felt about Dimitri since their first days at the academy. “You had…something, a vision, and idea of the world you wanted to build that kind of, charmed me into it, I think.” None can take Dimitri’s charisma out of him, especially not Claude with how quick he fell for it. “Your dreams joined mine. And at first I wanted to intrust them to you but the more you talked about it, the passion you put in your words that night, helped by the wine I guess – we have to admit we took more than we should have, at least on my side – gave me the need to see it for myself. The world you described me, I suddenly wanted to be a part of it. That’s why I stayed, in the end.”

For some reason Claude now feels more vulnerable than he ever felt before; and it doesn’t help that after his monologue Dimitri stares at him as if he hadn’t seen him for years. They never talked about it before, well, Dimitri never asked and it’s not in Claude’s habit to share a weakness with anyone, even Dimitri, no matter how much he matters to him.

When Dimitri doesn’t say anything, or even look moved or happy about his confession Claude fears the worst. It’s as if he made up his mind long before Claude entered his room, and whatever he’ll say won’t be able to shatter his determination. “Do you regret it?” He needs to know where they stand so he can move forward to fix everything. There’s always a way to mend things even when they have fallen apart.

“A part of me doesn’t, and will never.” Dimitri speaks words that are easy to understand. His heart is straightforward, he doesn’t conceptualize his ideas to the point of confusion. It’s clear as crystal, a part of him doesn’t and all the rest does.

“Which part?” His heart, his body, even if it’s only his dick; Claude needs to know to press the right button to bring Dimitri back in his arms.

“You know which one. Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re not here to discuss what we…are, or rather were.”

“Dimitri-“

“How would you feel if your troops were incapable of trusting you anymore?”

Claude looks on the ground to hide the pain on his face. No one used to trust him when he first put a foot in Foldan, how could he have forgotten? Of course, it’s different for Dimitri; from what he had gathered, even during his moment of insanity everyone was supporting him.

“After what happened at…I mean, my state of mind before the battle of Gronder Field, I swore to listen to my counsellors’ advice more often.”

“Yeah, good idea. You almost killed me down there.” Claude says, trying to sound hurt to provoke empathy.

“I know. I also know that you’ve forgiven me since then.”

“Dimitri, please,” Claude swops on him, his hands on each side of him. “Get to the point so I can think of a way to make you change your mind.”

And at least Dimitri has the courage to face him. His blue eye is tern yet still the most beautiful thing Claude has set his eyes on, and he’s seen many, many things.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do now,” Claude curls his fist against the stone, he bites on his lower lips. “My most precious generals and friends, on top of that, don’t find me suitable for taking decisions anymore, solely because of your presence at my side.”

“Ah!” Claude jerks out of Dimitri’s personal space and rolls his eyes to the Heavens, “As if you were that fragile to be influenced by my words alone.”

“Claude, you’ve mastered many arts I yet have to learn the basics of, and talking is the one you excel at best. Before you get angrier, be reassured that it is what I told them first and foremost. I thought myself stronger than that, at least at first.”

“At first? Dimitri, have you lost your mind again? What kind of poisonous thoughts did they put in there?” Claude says, his hands on each of Dimitri’s temples.

When Dimitri doesn’t move a thing but his eyelid, raising to meet Claude’s expecting eyes, Claude thinks it’s the best chance he’ll get. He leans in, captures Dimitri’s lips, he sighs at first when he is not pushed away – to think a couple of days ago Dimitri fed him, how far they have come, in the wrong direction – but panic sizes him a moment later when he realizes Dimitri has yet to reciprocate. Claude opens his eyes. Dimitri still stares.

“I’ve tried and tried to defend you, my beloved,” he says, with a tone that doesn’t match his choice of words, “But I had to admit defeat in front of their solid arguments.”

“What arguments? Which ones?!” Claude is enraged. He shouts and walks away, his stride as long as his fury.

“Don’t deny it!” Dimitri replies with the same anger in his voice, he stands up from the window’s sill. “In each of the expeditions you whispered in my ears you’ve gained something! If it’s not artefacts like this silver bow, it’s by eradication Alliance’s nobles that joined Edelgard’s rank and who could have been a threat to the Alliance as a whole!”

There’s no point denying the truth now, it’ll only look worse for him. “And what’s wrong with hitting two birds with one stone? There were your enemies too!”

Dimitri takes a step back to the wall, as if Claude cornered him with the truth. “I can’t believe they were right. All of them, all this time, you really did manipulate me, and for so long.”

“I didn’t- Look, Dimitri,” Should he also admit his intention had never been noble to begin with, but that the time they spent together made him change his mind? How can he atone for his old sins if he keeps denying them? “Per…haps, at the beginning I thought it would, maybe, be easier as an outsider to have my voice heard by using…unconventional methods.”

“By sneaking into my bed?!” Dimitri hurls.

Claude sighs slightly, trying to make it look better than it actually is. “I knew you'd take it badly. That’s why I never told you. But it was just at the beginning, you can trust me on that. The time I spent with you permitted me to fall in love with you.”

“But it means that, all this time, when you  _ courted  _ with me it was…you lured me? You were already manipulating me to get what you want.”

“Dimitri, please, you know I only have the greatest good in mind. We have the same dream, remember?”

“And you’re still doing it right now. You don’t want to go.”

“Of course I don’t! Why would I? I love you.”

“You fail to see it, right? The problem with all this.” Dimitri reaches Claude in a heartbeat and Claude is tempted to take a step back with how intimidating he looks from his point. Dimitri takes Claude’s face in his hands, his thumbs on his cheekbones ready to push on. “My troops see my trust in you as a weakness. They opened my eyes on your mischievous plans and I see now. All your lies. All the pretty phrasing you told me, which made me change my mind. I see why you did that, Claude, and the sight is ugly.”

With his rage Dimitri forces his thumbs on Claude’s face, who resists as best as he can, and between the physical and moral assault he can’t decide what’s worst.

“Fine. Remove me from the council, right now. I won’t discuss these matters with you if it’s what it takes to calm them.” Claude mutters. “We won’t talk about it in bed either.”

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve put yourself into Claude. You’ll do it again, and again, and the worse is that I’m too weak to resist you, I know it better than anyone. I’m the only one who’s aware of that though, well, I guess we are the only ones now that I’ve told you – see? I can’t seem to behave when you’re around. You’ve become a very cumbersome weakness of mine, and if I don’t want to lose my friends’ respect I need to get rid of you while I still can.”

“Get rid of me? Is that a joke?”

“I’m afraid it’s not. You need to leave before you have too much control on me.”

“You’ll never defeat the Empire without us.” Claude aims where it hurts, he pushes on Edelgard’s button, on the victory he so much craves for. “You know that.”

“You won’t need to take all your troops with you. We’ve settled the perfect escape so it won’t look too suspicious.” Dimitri gives him an envelope he had under his cape the whole time. “You’ll read it later but they are news from Count Gloucester. It seems he’s starting a riot in his territory and gathering troops to counter your leadership, helped by some of the troops we spared after the battle of Derdriu.”

Claude takes the envelope as if it wasn’t real. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Leave now Claude. Leave, or I’ll never be able to lead us to victory.”

“This is nonsense.”

“Leave!” Dimitri yells again, a vestige of his former self – an intensity he gained from a time he was barely himself, some things from our past always remain – and Claude cannot do a thing but take a step back. He’s the one against a corner now, and with no idea of what to do.

“There must be another way. You can talk to them. Dimitri, I beg you! There must be something else we can do.”

“It has nothing to do with them.” Dimitri replies, his eye to the ground.

“Is it you and me then? Is that really where the problem lies?” If so, it means good news for Claude, because it can easily be fixed. “We…I…Dimitri, I’ll go whatever you need of me. You just have to tell me.”

“I just told you. You need to leave. I want you to leave.”

“I know it’s not true. Besides,” he hates he has to use this card, but if it could save his skin why not after all? “The Alliance’s soldiers won’t stay after I leave. You’ll be on your own, and there’s nothing you can do now against Edelgard’s army. We have to find a more viable solution.”

Dimitri remains silent for a second and then Claude thinks he’s won, for all the bad reasons but a win is still a win, each victory is a reason to rejoice.

“We’ll find a way out of it. Without you, and your army. I cannot allow you by my side anymore, you obscure my judgment too much.”

Claude lets out a nervous laugh despite himself. “This is ridiculous. Are you insane? You’re running to your death, and you’re leading your all troops in this madness! What can be so awful with my presence that you decide, all of a sudden, to take this suicidal path?”

“I cannot trust either you, or me when you’re around.” Dimitri confesses, finally. “You alter the way I think and behave too much. Nothing is rational when it concerns you. Lately you’ve been omnipresent in my thoughts and heart, and despite everything that has happened I still wish and yearn for your everyday presence and advice. But this is not a good thing, not for me. You’re like a poison I cannot get rid of.”

Claude remains silent, speechless, by his side.

Dimitri takes a deep breath; he looks ahead, to his future he chose without Claude. “I know it’ll be painful, perhaps more for me than for you from what I guessed, judging by your hidden motives but it’s a necessary evil.” His hand goes on his wounded shoulder. “This is the proof, the reminder I’ll constantly need to remember this choice was a reasonable one. This is what is doomed to happen again if I blindly trust you and your oath to always protect me when you have your personal interests in mind all the time.”

“It only happened once. Once, Dimitri. I’m not perfect.” His voice quivers and he hates it, hates how even his subconscious is admitting defeat. “I protected you countless times before, you had no idea of the countless arrows you didn’t receive thanks to my presence, so why do you focalize on this one error of mine?”

“Because it could have been lethal. Because I was so certain you had my back I forgot I was vulnerable, as any man. You make me forget such simple truth. I feel too safe when you’re around, I cannot let this go on forever. You’ll be the death of me, Claude, if you stay any longer, be it by a mistake of mine or yours, or the cause of mutiny.”

“Your men will never harm you.”

“Not me, yes.” He says, and Claude swallows. This is getting out of his hands. The situation, just as Dimitri, slips out of his fingers. Does it really have to end like that? A forced common agreement isn’t that much of a bad option after all, since it means they can come back if needed. Compared to his throat being sliced by Felix’s blade, everything looks rather inviting.

“Did you call me here for that? To say goodbye?”

“Yes.” Dimitri replies in a rush. He still doesn’t look at him – if he were to ask, Dimitri would certainly justify his rudeness, saying it would hurt too much. “And to give you an explanation, even if I know you will disagree with the conclusion.”

“Of course I do. I want to stay by your side. Please, Dimitri, look at me.”

“No. I’m sorry, this is beyond my strength.”

“So we’re going to part like this, in loveless goodbyes, denuded of any emotions but my endless sorrow and your so endless stubbornness? Is it really how it ends?”

Claude is floating. Not the usual pleasant feeling he often got after they made love – somehow, his mind travelled here, in these short moments of bliss when Dimitri falls on top of him and he freed him of the cords and laces, and he kisses his neck gentle, whispering words of love and adoration; Claude travels there to find comfort, or proof that what just happened cannot be real, because then what of his memories? What did they mean? Has Dimitri forgotten about them?

“I’m afraid it is. Now go, please Claude.”

And for a moment Claude thinks he is going to say something insufferable like ‘if you really love me you’ll let me go’. Oh, he would have punched him if he said so.

But he didn’t. He adds nothing more and shows him the door. Claude takes baby steps to the exit and takes down the stairs one by one. There’s something unreal about all this. When he looks at the grey walls on the castle he thinks the bricks are wavy, the ground unsteady, as if he were walking in a boat – a floating castle, has anyone seen something like this before? Must be a dream, most likely. If not, how to explain what just happened?

But Lorenz and Felix stand in his way, and considering the severe look on both their faces it can’t mean anything good – Felix looks as happy as he can be and Lorenz, well, Claude only saw him this annoyed when the matter of his father is put down on the table again, which then gives his conversation with Dimitri more sense than it should have.

There’s still a part of his brain that wants to believe it’s a nightmare but his heart always knows the truth. It saw it in the way Dimitri stands around him, further than he ever did, his eye barely watching him – he let him go. It’s all over.

He cannot fake a smile when he reaches them.

“Oh, Claude, great timing. I need to have a word with you must urgently – I’ve received a letter from-“

But Claude shoves on Felix before he can smirk in victory, for he has had a few seconds to study his face, “You happy now? Is your ego satisfied that you’re going to sacrifice both our army for a caprice? Because you don’t like the look of me?”

“Hng. Can’t say I’m not satisfied to see that arrogant grin gone from your face.”

Claude doesn’t realize he’s punched him until Felix hits the wall behind. Lorenz gasps, he’s about to interject when Claude shouts.

“I loved him!”

His voice resonates in the emptiness of the corridor. Only Felix and Lorenz heard him, and he doesn’t care – it feels so liberating to get it out of his system, even if everything is over. Is it really? No, he can’t believe it.

Felix spits some blood on the ground. He smirks, he must feel powerful after all, he won. “Oh? Well, too bad you didn’t deserve him.”

Claude would have destroyed his face if Lorenz didn’t have the presence of mind to hold him back, his arms under his shoulders. “Please! Gentlemen! This is not a time for bickering! We have a war to fight, and I’m afraid we’ll have to face two front at the same time. Claude”, he adds once Claude eases the tension in his arms, “We have a major problem. My father-“

“Yeah, I know.” He gets away from Lorenz’s grip, his eyes never leaving Felix’s face and the blood that runs on his lips and chin. “The King told me.”

“So what do we do? We have an impossible choice to make.”

But they don’t, actually; Dimitri made it for him.

“We’re leaving. Tomorrow at dawn. No, the sooner the better. I can’t stay in this place no more, it smells too much like shit.”

“Not my fault someone poisoned our food. Perhaps you know who might have been behind this?” Felix provokes him. They all know it’s him.

“Perhaps you should change your cook in chief.” Claude replies, before he leaves. Lorenz has to run after him.

They ride back to Alliance territory a couple of hours after.

True to his word Dimitri declared to his troops that a conflict within the Alliance’s territory and involving the Empire was the reason for Claude's prompt departure. Surprisingly it turned out to be true.

Claude didn’t look back when he took off with his wyvern. If he had had, he would have seen Dimitri wasn’t there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mental images are strong enough to escort him in the world of dreams. Once his eyes closed Claude allows his thoughts to travel places he thought belong to a distant past, a time when Dimitri was not so shy to lock eyes with him, asking for his absolute attention and care, and his mouth leaving urgent love bites instead of stabbing him with cutting remarks. In his dreams they are back in the tent. In his dreams Dimitri ties his hands behind his back and his legs together. He takes a carafe full of wine and empties it on his body, before he licks it to the last drop. In his dreams Dimitri pins him against their bed and fucks his thighs before fucking him, pulling on his hair, he bites and spanks him when Claude says it barely hurts, that he’s weak and impotent. In his dreams Dimitri turns him around just before he climaxes, his hands run on his sticky torso up to his collarbones, and close around his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 24k later, the scene I had in mind for a month isn't there yet. I'm tired. (Which means one more chapter but later!)

This time when Claude flies above the battlefield it’s only to meet smoke and hear the cries of soldiers from both sides, as they slaughter each other in the name of their respective leader and their drastically opposite ideal. Speaking of the devil, Claude has been  _ given _ the impossible task to bring back Dimitri in one piece, which would probably require a miracle out of him in light of the information his acute sight gives him.

It’s been six moons since he’s been chased from the Kingdom’s camp. Six months since Dimitri chose to fight Edelgard on his own, and of course Claude knew all along that they would call them back for help and he dread this moment – but perhaps not more than the lack of it, for it would mean his old ally had lost utterly, it would mean Dimitri had fallen and he couldn’t accept that.

Claude is their last resolve, their trump card; with the way they parted, it is evident the old Blue Lion needed a catastrophe to call him back.

Which is exactly what Claude has to face now.

Earlier he ran on Felix, holding an unconscious Sylvain, bathed in his own blood, his eyes lifeless but his chest still moving up and down. He reached them to secure their retreat, and then was informed they had lost Dimitri.

“Get him back.” Felix barked at him. Claude ignored the harsh tone and flight back immediately in search of the King of Faerghus.

He shouldn’t be difficult to spot yet Claude cannot find him anywhere. It’s a battle against time now, whenever he looks down Claude can only see corpses and horses wandering aimlessly on the battlefield, their rider missing.

Near a forest he thinks he recognizes one of Dimitri’s squadrons. The soldier, his face burned with dark magic, takes a couple of steps before tumbling to the ground, dead. Claude’s blood runs cold in his vein – it looks too much like Hubert’s dark spell. What is he doing so far from Embarr, from Edelgard?

Could his presence mean that the Emperor is here as well?

He lands his wyvern behind the trees and ventures, his bow in hands, the Immortals securing his path as best as they can. It doesn’t take long for him to spot Dimitri’s horse, a leg wounded and his owner desperately not on its back. Claude takes a deep breath, he cannot hear any noise from potential enemies for now. He advances prudently, following the blood’s trace Dimitri’s horse left behind him.

He finds him a couple of metres away, his back on the ground, his side opened down to his navel and a couple of arrows tearing his coat.

“Dimitri!” he runs to him, kneels at his side. He’s conscious still, even if barely. He breathes in and out too fast, a sign of large blood loss, and Claude had never felt more useless in battle. His mission is to retrieve him so they can finally retreat, but manoeuvring him  _ this  _ wounded in enemy’s territory sounds almost impossible.

He tries not to notice how Dimitri stares at him but doesn’t speak. It’s not as if he didn’t believe he’s here – it’s quite the opposite, it looks like he expected him to show up, but couldn’t find anything clever to say after all this time – and focuses on their escape.

“Can you stand?” It sounds silly. Any way other than Dimitri would have been dead with these kinds of wounds.

But Dimitri proves him wrong and gets on his feet, supported by Claude’s arm – and he never felt their height difference than now. Why does he have to be so massive? “How are the others?”

“Just a little bit less terrible than you.” Claude replies earnestly. “Felix had enough strength left to yell at me.”

This makes Dimitri smile, for some reason. “Good. Not everything is lost then.”

“Of course not. After all, I'm here to save the day. Part of my army is on its way, this should secure our path back.”

Claude analyses their surroundings. Around them there are piles of corpses, wearing the Empire’s colour, probably dead by Dimitri’s lance – Areadbhar shines in his tight grip. He must have killed them all before collapsing from his wounds. Claude feels a shiver running down his spine, of dread but excitation too. Dimitri’s strength never left him indifferent, but now is hardly the time to be reminded of all the reasons that made him fall for him.

Dimitri’s horse waits still, just where Claude left him. Unfortunately he hears soldiers rushing their way, attracted by the Immortals’ presence probably. Claude tries to think of all the solutions at hand to reach his wyvern without causing more casualties, but the chances are thin that none of them spot them with how massive and recognisable Dimitri is.

An idea comes to his mind, but he’s not sure Dimitri will approve – it’s not like he has the choice anyway, it’s like Claude’s presence at his side; he’ll have to deal with it from now on.

“Dimitri. Give me your coat.”

He gently puts him down against a tree and comes back to the middle of the forest. A couple of minutes later he returns dragging a corpse by its feet.

Dimitri eyes his horse then, wounded, and understands. It wouldn’t have made it back anyway. He nods in a silent agreement of Claude’s scheme.

And the Empire’s forces fall for it at the beginning. Dimitri’s horse, wounded, galloping out of the forest with on its back a large blond figure wearing his so recognisable coat. It won’t last long, especially if Hubert is truly among them, but it’ll suffice.

Once his lure is ready Claude holds Dimitri by the waist and slaps the horse’s rear, who departs at once, as if it understood his perilous mission but accepted it nonetheless. It doesn’t prevent a couple of soldiers from attacking them once they get out of the wood themselves, looking for Claude’s wyvern he hid behind a bush, but the Immortals have their back, and they both mount and fly back to the Kingdom’s army’s camp.

Claude feels Dimitri’s weight in his back as soon as the trees become spots on the ground. He’s lost consciousness. He hopes he hasn’t been too late.

If the retreat occurs smoothly thanks to the unexpected presence of Alliance’s forces, the couple of weeks that follow are disastrous, mostly due to their lack of healer. Mercedes has been badly wounded. All of them have been, actually. The only one that partly stands on his feet is Felix, but he cannot do much with the few while magic he mastered. Yet it’s enough to keep his friends alive for a couple of days before reinforcement arrives.

The way back to Fhirdiad is suffocating. Dimitri hasn’t awakened yet. Felix avoids to speak with any of general of the Alliance, mostly because of his pride, Claude thinks, or because he’s angry, angry he couldn’t do a thing and had to rely on Claude, or perhaps he’s angry Claude didn’t bring Dimitri in a better shape – in any cases, Claude resists the urge to share a piece of his mind on the subject. If they hadn’t demanded of him to go six moons ago things would have never come this way and they all know it. But if something this six moons of separation taught Claude something is that, sometimes, it’s better to keep his thoughts to himself.

“So, how have you been?” Sylvain asks him quietly. He has awakened a couple of days after they arrived at the capital. From all the casualties, apart from Dimitri he’s the one who suffered the most from the battle. He almost died twice during the ride back. Claude suspects his health played a lot on Felix’s mood.

“Great. Thank you for asking.” He lies.

“Count Gloucester?”

“A piece of cake.” That’s another lie as well. Lorenz’s father has been a pain to deal with, as usual, and in the rage of his heartbreak Claude perhaps had been too merciless. It had the merit of occupying his mind for a couple of weeks, but nothing could make him forget about the sweetness of Dimitri’s lips, his calloused hands on him, the desire in his eye; Claude had suffered from his absence as much as from his rejection, and he found the curse of sleeping in a cold and empty bed worse than any poison he had been the victim off in his early years. Days passed impossibly slow, and with nothing to look for when night came, he felt his days were meaningless, even at the peak of battle, even when they spent their days organising their defences and counting their troops, even as he listened to the whispers of his spies across the continent, even as they told him tales about Dimitri’s success and failures. Everything felt dull in a way he had never felt before.

“What about you?” he asks Sylvain. He gives him a tired smile.

“Pretty good, as you can see.”

If he still can joke around then it means he’ll be fine, in a couple of weeks maybe. They both laugh quietly to ease the tension, but soon Sylvain winces and holds his side. Their smiles fade.

“I hate to say this, especially after what you did for us.” Sylvain goes on, after a while. “But we had been good. After you left. We were better, as a whole, without you.”

Claude doesn’t say a thing. It was one of the possibilities. The one he hated the most.

“Don’t misunderstand me, I’m glad you came back. You saved us from an impossible situation. I was there when they attacked Dimitri, it’s a miracle he’s still alive, and we owe this to you, no matter what people will tell you in the future.”

“I know.” Claude says softly. He tries to erase any sign of anger and displeasure in his voice, first because Sylvain is hardly responsible for this, and second, because if he wants to start a new and durable partnership with the Kingdom again, they both have to flatter their lines.

“But you know how people can be toxic for others, at certain moments of their lives? Like, we all know deep down, some deeper than others if you know what I mean, that you’re a good person at heart and that you share our goals, but whatever you did to Dimitri…” Sylvain halts here, as if looking for words, “You changed him too deeply and too quickly. It scared us. He who never listened to us while he was still lost in the darkness, suddenly you appear and you could get anything out of him just by baiting an eye – well, we all figured it was something  _ more _ than just, baiting an eye.”

Claude laughs bitterly at that. “I got myself quite invested in him, yeah.”

“Did you really love him?” Sylvain asks suddenly.

This is so out of the blue that Claude sucks in a breath. “Why do you ask?”

“Felix told me. Not when we gently asked you to leave, mind you, but just before we asked for your help.” Sylvain says, his eyes on him, studying him. “I told him with how diplomatic our parting has been, you’d never come this fast to help us, that he was dreaming and I told him it was okay to dream in moment of despair, when hope is the last string left you can cling on to keep on fighting, but then he looked at me straight in the eyes and he told me you’d come because you loved him.”

Claude takes his time before replying. “I did.” He does, still, but it’s not what he’s been asked. “Again, why do you ask?”

“Don’t misunderstand me, I have no opinion on the matter – I don’t judge this kind of morals, this is not in my nature and definitely not my place – but I am curious as to how you managed to convince Felix, all of the people, about the earnestness of your feelings.”

Claude smiles bitterly at the memory. His fist sometimes hurts at night. “I punched him in the face.”

Sylvain laughs again, reopening his wounds and that’s why they call their interview an end.

“One last thing,” Claude is hesitant to ask, because if he’s the only person he can ask this, he isn’t sure Sylvain could do a thing about it. “Do you think I could…see him?”

Sylvain frowns, “You haven’t?”

Claude shakes his head. “Not since I brought him back. Dedue’s guarding the door. He sticks to his guns, saying the last time Dimitri talked about me it was to forbid me the access of his tent. I kept explaining I kind of saved his life and talked to me at this occasion-“

“Dedue is Dedue, he won’t listen to a word we say. He only obeys to Dimitri.” Sylvain lets out a sigh, his eyes get lost on the ceiling before he closes them out of tiredness. “I’ll think of something.”

A couple of days later his inquiry is blessed by the impromptu visit of Felix as he’s having tea with Hilda. “Come with me.”

They walk a path Claude knows too well to Dimitri’s private chamber, where he was once  _ repudiated  _ – or something of the sort – and where Felix lost a tooth. In front of them Dedue eyes him severely. He doesn’t trust him and doesn’t want this still, but for obscure reasons he lets them pass. The only condition for his visits is that he never stays alone with Dimitri, which explains Felix’s presence.

Dimitri lies on his bed, deep blue sheets covering his body, blond hair spread on the white cushion. It looks like he’s sleeping at best, his face denuded of any trace of pain or worry. Claude is paralyzed, not by that fact that his former lover’s body is lain unconscious on his bed, but by the mere sight of him, to be standing and breathing in the same room as he when he was deprived of this simple happiness before, and for him it feels as unreal as holding his wounded body, blood ripping through his torn armour and to stain Claude’s tunic. Now that the adrenaline has gone and only the anticipation of seeing an ancient love remains Claude feels short of breath, and never he has wished to be left alone with Dimitri and his feelings for him, that still linger between them, and which he hasn’t had the opportunity to address since he came back to his side. Does he love him still? Yes, that is certain. Does he love him all the same? Perhaps not, perhaps more.

Felix closes the door and walks to his King in silence. Claude follows him after he reaches his destination – a seat on the left side of the bed. Claude has none, but he’ll stand or kneel against the bed, he doesn’t care.

From close Dimitri looks even paler than in his memories. His lips are almost white as well, far away from how rosy and swollen they used to be after they kissed. Claude sits on the bed; he looks a moment at Felix to make sure he isn’t about to slice him into two for such a bold move, but nothing transpires from his body language. He risks a hand on the side of his face where his eye patch should have been, his thumb caressing the end of the scar just under his eyelid. After a moment he takes off his gloves. Felix hasn’t moved a finger still.

“Hey you.” Claude says. He sits closer to Dimitri’s side, careful of the wound that is hidden under the sheets. “I’m glad to see you.”

Dimitri doesn’t stir. He lays perfectly immobile like a frozen statue. Felix seems so used to the sight that it doesn’t move him anymore.

Claude runs his finger up in his hair. In different circumstances the move would have made him feverish for more than a simple touch, but the painful sight anesthetized his lust, his touch is warm but only to comfort and console, not to excite and arouse. Who is he trying to heal though, by caressing his face? If a lover’s presence could cure any wound there wouldn’t be any need for healers, and Dimitri would be invisible.

He leans closer, Felix tenses, his hand goes on his sword by reflex. He nuzzles Dimitri’s cold cheek before letting his lips run on his jaw. Even after all this time, the motion seems so natural, automatic even. His hand caresses the other side of his face gently. Dimitri hasn’t moved a single eyelid.

“Will you let me try something stupid?” Claude asks. Felix tenses still, but relaxes, and accepts Claude’s request with a grunt.

He looks away though when Claude leans in and kisses Dimitri on the lips.

Claude would have liked to kiss him gently. He would have liked to feel rosy, firm lips against his, kissing back, perhaps Dimitri could have moaned just a bit and opened his mouth and Claude wouldn’t have taken advantage of this overture. He would have ended the kiss then, playing hard to get like he did in the past, he would have made Dimitri go crazy and chase for him. But what’s the point if Dimitri’s not really here? Who is he trying to heal, to lure then?

The kiss is harsh and full of regrets. Claude knows too well how much of his actions and behaviours brought them here. He wished he had acted differently. Or to have never fallen in love with him.

When he parts from Dimitri he studies his face, his eyes, he caresses his cheek once again. There has been no change, as expected. “Why does this kind of thing only work in books?”

“People who write stories have never been on a battlefield.” Felix replies.

“Or they’ve been too much.” Claude counters. “They know the pain and sorrow of loss, and imagined a way to heal the incurable wounds with one of the few things that is still worth fighting for.”

Claude doesn’t know what he wanted to achieve, coming here, while Dimitri sleeps still. He caresses his face for long minutes in holy silence, distraught by the vainness of his lover’s touches, by how powerless he feels. Felix must feel the exact same, because he sees him clench his fist and after a moment he speaks, his voice strangled with dawning tears.

“Why don’t you try harder then?”

Claude feels his own eyes burn with sorrow. He kisses Dimitri again, more gently this time, but so desperately. He does it again when he hears Felix’s first sob before he kneels against the bed, his head buried in his arms and cries. Silent tears fall on Dimitri’s pale cheeks, he remains still, a timeless beauty, and for a second Claude is shaken to his core that perhaps he will always stay like this, frozen like this, he’s overwhelmed by the possibility of him never waking up.

“It’s going to be fine. He’ll make it. He’s tough, more than anyone I know.” More than he, that’s for sure, more than Sylvain, and Sylvain woke up. “They’ll be fine.”

“They’d better be. I’m tired of burying corpses.” Felix cries.

If they had been on better terms before this day Claude would have probably shown Felix a sign of comfort, even just merely a hand on his back or shoulder, to show him he wasn’t alone. His brother, his father, countless of his comrades and now Sylvain and Dimitri, his two best friends so close to join them all; life hasn’t been just on Felix. To think some soldiers still believe they’re guided by a benevolent Goddess.

His heart can’t handle more of Dimitri’s lifeless sight more for a day. Claude exits the room and wanders in the castle alone for a while, forgetting that Hilda is probably waiting for his return after Felix’s dramatic entrance that interrupted their perfect tea time.

He tries not to think too much of the smiles and laughs he doesn’t see or hear anymore, when they used to fill their days before he was banished. He’s learned better than to ask of what had happened to those missing.

Suddenly he wonders if he’ll ever hear his voice again.

_ ‘Not everything is lost then.’ _

It can’t be the last words he heard from him. It cannot be.

It won’t.

A couple of days later Dimitri rises from the dead. On this bright Sunday afternoon Claude sits next to his bed, a parchment of trivial importance in hand, but that still requires his signature at its bottom as the leader of the Leicester Alliance, when he emerges from his slumber. It’s first a groan that alerts Claude of his prompt awakening. He almost drops the parchment on the floor when he understands what’s truly happening, but once the shock of the terrific news passes, Claude just crosses his legs and rests his face on his chin, an idly smile on his lips. Soon Dimitri opens his eyes, he blinks a couple of times, hurt by the sudden light. It takes Claude a tremendous effort not to smile wilder.

“Hello.” He says.

Dimitri turns his head slowly to him. It seems he didn’t expect him here. He tries to speak, but his throat is too dry to form coherent words.

Warned by his voice, Dedue comes from the door. “Your Majesty!” He says, with every bit of emotion he can share to the world, and hurries to his side. Dimitri still watches Claude when he does. Claude can’t stare away. It’s not often that he has the privilege to see both his eyes, the right one blank due to the wound he got so long ago, and each time they were laying together, bare, on Dimitri’s bed, bodies sweaty and hands feverish, suffering from the lack of the other’s presence during the day.

All these memories have the merit of unveiling an answer Claude had been looking for since he came back here. If he cannot say all about his feelings for now, he still wants Dimitri, his body, fingers, hands and grips on him. He wants the hot breath on the crook of his neck, the teeth leaving love bites on his thighs, his cock hitting deeper than any of his lovers did before. His smile turns into something more alluring as these kinds of thoughts obscure his mind. That’s when Dimitri tears his eyes from him.

They hold a feast to celebrate the King’s awakening. Some call it a miracle. More surprisingly, Felix thinks it was another magical force that permits his return.

“What!?” He can’t stop laughing when Sylvain tells him. “I’m confident about my kissing ability, but I’m sure I cannot make anyone rise from the dead.”

“But you know a lot about poisons right? Aren’t there great stories of men being poisoned by a beautiful lady’s kiss?”

Claude takes a sip of his cup of red wine – quite shitty if you’d asked him, nothing like the one they have in Derdriu – looking to the crow in a vain attempt to hide the blush from his cheek. He doesn’t even understand why the words flustered him so much. “The beautiful lady thanks you but no, this is not what happened. And, seriously, a poison to heal people?”

“Oh, you know, perhaps at a very very tiny dose?”

In any case, he’s glad Sylvain can walk and even eat and drink, laugh wholeheartedly without risking to open up his wounds again. It seems they are slowly recovering, even if Dimitri is not to get out of bed before a whole week. The situation is still dire, especially since they don’t know when he’ll be able to hold a lance again. The Empire took the opportunity to annex more territories after their victory with the help of the Western Church. The only thing reassuring about this is that at least Claude knows where they are, which is nowhere the Alliance’s border, something quite enjoyable since he’s not there either.

For a day Claude wonders about the right thing to do. He speaks about it with Lorenz and Hilda first, before looking for Gustave’s advice. As much as they are proud people, the Kingdom took a deep blow and could use some help, temporary at least, and Claude wants to help; but he’s still worried his intervention would be seen as self-interested. On the other hand, if all his forces remain in Fhirdiad until Dimitri recovers, Claude would leave the Alliance defenceless, and if he were in the Empire’s shoes he’d choose this precise moment to attack his front, aided by the surprise effect it could cause.

Some of them have to go back. Claude clings to the castle as best as he can. He doesn’t want to leave now. He tells the others and part of himself that it’s only for the greater good, but Hilda knows him best.

“You’re still doing it. What they ask us to leave for. You’re making your own interest passes first.” She says, cruelly – but only because she speaks the plain truth and doesn’t wear any gloves.

“You hear it yourself. Gustave said they could use my good mood and capacity of adaptation to help around. Plus, I will mostly help Sylvain and Felix. I won’t make any big decisions, so will Dimitri.”

“I’m staying with you.” She says.

“You don’t have to.”

Hilda sits on the desk, her legs swinging in the void under. “I want to. Can you imagine it, poor Marianne alone, having to take tea with you as you’ll tell her how blue The King of Faerghus’s eye is, and how handsome he looks when he’s sleeping?”

Claude rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. He’s glad. “And who exactly is making their own interest pass first here?”

“Well, we’re not best friends for nothing, aren’t we?”

If at first Claude’s fears turn out to be true, and most soldiers eye him closely, assuming perhaps he’ll put something else in their soup – not that Claude blame them for that, on the contrary – with each passing days Claude shows his good will and intention to help with the intendancy and share his knowledge, which is priceless, and his organisation skills manages to win weeks of labour, precious time against the Empire. His spies tell him about Edelgard’s next target in time, still at their western border, and his anticipation skill saves many lives.

Two weeks after Lorenz’s departure Dimitri demands to sit at the war council. Everyone objects, it’s too early, but their King’s will is unbendable. They change the throne’s place near the entrance, for him to walk the strict minimum. It makes him mad, makes him think he’s weak. Of course Claude would have objected, but he promised not to share his opinion as long as their King is concerned.

They also decided he’ll refer to him like this now. No more familiarity. He’s not allowed to call him Dimitri, even in private if they ever talk again. Which has barely been the case since the King woke up, for a reason Claude can’t put his finger on. Claude did nothing but what he was told, even coming back, Dimitri can’t resent him for that; and since he arrived he showed nothing to earn any feelings of distrust. Even the soldiers like him! A couple of feast were enough to buy their hearts – Claude knows too well how to get into a man’s good paper, and most of the time, it starts with a good meal.

It has been the same for Dimitri in a way. The first time Dimitri kissed him, Claude had been running a grape against his lips. He took Dimitri three seconds to snap and ravish his mouth, and perhaps three more seconds to undress him. Claude never thought they would fuck so quickly, but he did work on him restlessly. It is, so far, still his best achievement, his masterpiece, yet Dimitri refuses to speak to him.

It’s not the season of grapes and dates anymore, too bad, he’ll have to think of something else.

“You’re doing that again.” Hilda hits his skull with a parchment. A letter from Lorenz.

“What?”

“You’re daydreaming. You had the same look on your face before you started to flirt with ‘His Majesty’.” She says. Claude looks back on the wall in front of him. In a sense she’s right, what could he be doing but think of Dimitri when this wall is so plain and dull? He sighs.

“But we have to get along like we used to. No one is supposed to be aware of our affair, and that it caused our departure – imagine what the soldiers would think, so many lives taken away from them, friends, lovers, fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, just for a little heartbreak?”

“It wasn’t just a little heartbreak.”

“But they won’t know that.” Claude argues. “They won’t understand. And they’ll see their leader as the person who provoked all this, all the deaths, and now that they…like me? Or something approaching in any case, what do you think will happen?”

“Claude, you know there’s no way to know what would have happened if we had stayed with the Kingdom’s forces right? The situation could have been even worse. Different people could have died, or more lived. Who are we to decide which was the good path to take?”

“It’s a question only History can answer. The winner of this war will have the last word, it’s always how it works.”

Hilda stays pensive, she stares at the very same wall Claude has been looking at for long minutes.

“I’ll write a letter to Ignaz. We need to decorate your quarters.”

His quarters. He laughs bitterly. The situation is the absolute opposite of what it was before. He’s welcomed by all but the one his heart longs for.

From this day Dimitri’s health recovers at the speed of light, by a sort of magic trick most think, and Claude has to admit he doesn’t have an explanation to give about this apparent miracle. Once more Dimitri triumphs over the law of nature, ignores them to impose his will. This day, he enters the war council and takes the throne in his hands alone, and puts it back on it’s rightful place on the other side of the room. Everyone watches him silently, paralyzed for different reasons – if most are scared he’d reopened a wound that was so difficult to treat, Claude is, as always, in awe in front of his demonstration of strength, and would give anything to be this bit of hard wood in Dimitri’s care. But nothing of the sort happens. Dimitri sits and crosses his hands in front of his face, his chin resting on it. He’s cured. He’ll lead soon. Claude bets he’ll be on the training field in a couple of days.

Dimitri proves him wrong by training the very night. The stars have been shining in the darkness for hours, for too long to be training still – even Felix has gone to rest. As for what Claude is doing here, he’ll never give Dimitri an explanation. He has ears in every room, eyes in every corner.

He watches him train. For his own safety, he tells himself, but that’s not all. Dimitri lost a lot of his muscular mass during his convalescence but he’s still deadly with a spare, his movements haven’t lost that much of their precision, perhaps his arms lack a bit of dexterity but that is merely all. He’s extraordinary. A marvel of Nature. A monster, some might say.

Claude knows he’s been spotted. He’s not trying to hide his presence, on the contrary, he yearns for contact and a reason to engage the silliest sort of conversation. He’s dying to hear his voice calling his name again.

He goes down from the stairs when he thinks Dimitri’s tiring himself too much for his health.

“Let’s call it a day, your Majesty.” He sticks to his word, not calling him by his name. Dimitri seems surprised, perhaps they didn’t tell him. “If I let you train any longer in your state, Gustave will kill me – well, not literally speaking, but Felix will, assuredly.”

“What are you doing here at this hour?”

“I was, wandering. Couldn’t sleep.” He lies.

Dimitri stares at him, then back at his lance. He drops it on the ground. “You’re right. I cannot risk hurting myself again, not so soon at least.”

“Let me accompany you to your room. I insist.” He says before Dimitri can object. He also takes off the coat he wears, the same one Dimitri gave him so long ago. “And put this on, you’ll catch a cold.” 

He never got rid of it, he doesn’t even think it’s a gift from Dimitri at this moment – it felt so natural on his back now, whenever it gets cold, that he doesn’t even make the link; it’s  _ his _ coat, endpoint.

But he does now, or at least he sees how Dimitri remembers this warm memory of a time where they were happy. It passes like a flash of light, his eye, enlightened by torches against the wall, suddenly looks brighter as if something was shining from inside of his iris, before it comes back to its original colour. Dimitri takes it once this moment is gone, his fingers brushing against Claude’s, and he’ll never know if he did it on purpose, or if the memories unconsciously pushed him to act as he used to around Claude.

He puts it around his shoulders. Despite being fit for Claude, it suits him perfectly after he lost so much weight. “Thank you.” His voice is softer, weaker even. Claude chooses not to notice.

“It’s nothing. Come on now, or I’ll be the one sneezing to death tomorrow, and we don’t want that.” He talks with this falsely carefree tone he uses and exploits so well and so often, one Dimitri knows by heart, and what’s hidden behind. Nervousness. Apprehension. Lies, or rather truth Claude tries to hide – he doesn’t lie per see, but he certainly omits to share his mind. There’s at least a dozen of questions Claude would like to ask but can’t, not because the moment isn’t appropriate – they are alone, it’s late at night, they are many stars in the sky and if they wait a bit perhaps it will snow; it’s as romantic as it can be – but because Claude isn’t sure he’ll handle any of the answers.

Did he miss him? Did he think about him, and if so, how much. Every day? Every hour? Did it ache to wake up alone? Could he eat any grapes without thinking about how he used to feed him with those? Could he taste the wine without wanting to have him the minute after? Did he have anyone else? Did he console himself in another pair of arms, or more, like Claude did, to ease the pain? Did it work, unlike for Claude? Did his fingers burn when they touched Claude’s a couple of minutes ago? Does he love him, still?

Did he ever love him?

Claude had a lot of certainty before Dimitri ripped his heart apart, and his silence finished to crush them all.

He voices none of it. They walk silently to Dimitri’s room.

“There we are, your Majesty.” Claude halts a couple of steps before, he isn’t sure he can go any further, for some reason it hurts too much. They are only bad memories behind this door.

“Claude.”

The sound of his name feels like a chant to his ears. It’s enough to blow his eyes wide with desire, to part his lips with anticipation, and it’s painful how obvious he is. It reflects in Dimitri’s posture, how he clears his throat before he speaks again.

“I’ve heard of your exploit.”

“Oh,” Claude comes back to earth. His feet are solidly fixed on the paved floor. “This was nothing. I couldn’t let Sylvain, wounded as he was, take care of the inventory. And your finances really needed a second look-“

“I mean, on the battlefield.”

Claude turns rigid for a second. “You don’t remember?”

“I, no, I’m afraid my wounds were too severe, and my last memory if this horrible day ends with an arrow hitting my back, and me falling ungracefully on the grass.”

“Oh.” That would explain, perhaps, why he had been so cold. “You probably wondered then what I was doing at your bedside when you woke up.”

“I did.” There’s a silence that both want to break, but none can find the right word. Dimitri holds onto Claude's coat. “I thought it was a dream.” He says.

“Not a nightmare, I hope.”

Dimitri smiles for a fraction of second. “No. Or if it were, your presence would have made it easier to bear.”

Claude’s cheeks burn. He needs to leave. There’s not much he can handle before opening his heart, and risking the so many questions stored in it to flow on Dimitri. He’s not ready for them. He can barely stand on his feet.

“When? When did you learn?”

“That you saved me? And took care of the Kingdom for me?” Claude nods, almost timidly, their eyes don’t meet. “At different times. They told me as soon as I woke up about your help, and even if I was distraught at first, I couldn’t do anything but admire your excellence and the generosity you did to us. For that I’ll never thank you enough.”

“It was nothing, your Majesty.”

“But the day of the battle had reached my ears only very recently. Felix told me I should…” he stops there, then goes on, “I’ll never thank you enough, once again. I have no word, literally.”

Is it his way of offering a truce? Or to hint there could be more? Claude feels his face grow warm by the mere thought of it, yet he cannot dive in there, not so soon, he needs to keep his ground.

“That way we’re even, your Majesty.”

And turns around the moment he witnesses the awaited reaction on his former lover’s face, when he has not thought about anything else but pushing him against his door and kissing him the whole time.

The mental images are strong enough to escort him in the world of dreams. Once his eyes closed Claude allows his thoughts to travel places he thought belong to a distant past, a time when Dimitri was not so shy to lock eyes with him, asking for his absolute attention and care, and his mouth leaving urgent love bites instead of stabbing him with cutting remarks. In his dreams they are back in the tent. In his dreams Dimitri ties his hands behind his back and his legs together. He takes a carafe full of wine and empties it on his body, before he licks it to the last drop. In his dreams Dimitri pins him against their bed and fucks his thighs before fucking him, pulling on his hair, he bites and spanks him when Claude says it barely hurts, that he’s weak and impotent. In his dreams Dimitri turns him around just before he climaxes, his hands run on his sticky torso up to his collarbones, and close around his throat.

He wakes up with a start. He feels feverish, his sheets are soaked with sweat. He feels dizzy, and unfortunately no, it’s not all of Dimitri’s doing.

Unused to the cold Claude catches the flu, and keeps the bed for five days and five nights, but for him times passes in a rush, and his memories are nothing but foggy from the few moments he’s conscious of the first days. He remembers somehow flashes of pink, Hilda’s hair certainly, an icy cloth on his forehead. He’s thirsty, all the time, he can barely eat, barely has the strength to swallow. At some point he wakes up at night and everything spins around him; he wonders if it’s how it’ll end for him, far from the battlefield, far from home, alone in a bed that isn’t his, far from the ones he loves.

Dimitri comes when the nurses decide he’s contagious no more.

And at first, Claude thinks it’s a dream too, that he’s exhausted still, or perhaps so close to death that his brain sends him a pleasant sight to ease his passing but no, he’s here, truly, even if he speaks so little – or perhaps he does and Claude is too weak to hear – and stays no more than a couple of minutes. He comes, and it’s enough.

Others come too. Sylvain mostly, Hilda always. Marianne daily checks on him. He’s doing better. The day after he sits on his bed for the first time, and Dimitri comes again.

Claude hears him, sees him, stares at him. He must look awful, his lips are dry, his eyes darken with tiredness and dehydration, his cheeks hollow but he smiles nonetheless. For some reason he wants to hold his hand, perhaps fever turned him into a helpless romantic.

“I promise it’s not your fault, your Majesty,” he calls him still, and he likes too much how Dimitri seems to dislike this new habit. He stares at Sylvain to see if he notices as well. “I was doomed to catch a cold one day, I’m not used to your bloody weather, coat or not.”

“I’d advise you stop walking around the castle at impossible hours from now.” Claude gives him a daring smile in response, saying, how dare you control my comes and goes, restrict his movements outside of the private sphere? He wants him to go there. To think of him at his mercy, tied and vulnerable. Dimitri frowns at that smile though, perhaps the innuendo isn’t that obvious. “Claude, please, this is for your own safety.”

“I know.” He speaks little, he’s too tired and his throat too sore. His voice is nothing but a whisper, which is quite practical if he wants no one but him to hear it. “I will behave if it’s what you want, your Majesty.”

He sees how Dimitri’s breath hitches, his fist surreptitiously clenches at his side.

The next day he’s brought his dinner while Dimitri stays. He’s merely talking about military advances after Hilda told him about Alliance’s last gossips – because as for late, the area is rather tranquil, hopefully – and that everyone wishes for his prompt recovery. There’s a bit of soup and an orange on the trail. Dimitri takes it in his lap.

“Can you eat?”

Claude is still weak, but he can hold a spoon still. He’s not at the verge of death, not anymore.

Nothing tastes good but he’s too dehydrated to care. It’s perhaps a bit too salty as well, but the nurses said it’s better for his blood pressure. It’s still low.

Dimitri watches him eat religiously, somehow, and Claude doesn’t know why he does that, what he wants, what he thinks he can gain out of this – he’s too tired to analyse his behaviour, he’ll do it later. Yet an idea comes to his mind as he struggles with peeling the oranges. He cuts one end with the knife with great difficulty, the skin way more harder than what he thought it would be. The silence that follows the loud clash of the knife hitting the trail is heavy. Everyone holds their breath as, slowly, Claude looks back at Dimitri with something dark in his eyes.

“Can you do it for me?”

Dimitri seems frozen for a second too long, reading for once the double-entendre Claude sends him, or at least Claude hopes. He brings the chair a bit closer, he clears his throat. “Sure.” He says, in a rush.

Dimitri takes the orange, he peels it, his thumb cutting the skin, Claude watches the pearls of orange juice flying in the air as he does. He takes one segment out and hands it to Claude.

But Claude doesn’t take it.

Instead he leans forward and opens his mouth, just a little.

And it only takes a second, for Dimitri’s to halt, for his eye to get blown wild and Claude will even dare to say he shivers under his armour. It’s nothing but a bet at this point. He’s hoping it’ll work like a Pavlov reflex.

Claude too shivers when eventually Dimitri leans in as well. He brings the orange’s segment to his lips, it brushes a bit against them because Claude isn’t opening his mouth enough but he wants Dimitri to feel the resistance and continue still, he wants him to get his fingers the closest possible from entering his mouth. He swallows the first one rather sagely, his tongue bringing it inside his mouth, and he only chews when it is tightly closed. The juice burns his throat, but he shows none of it. He opens his mouth again.

Dimitri hasn’t prepared any new segment, too absorbed by the sight Claude offers him to think of anything else. The orange almost falls from his grip, but he swallows and prepares new segments for Claude, some he smashes with his powerful hands, hands that gets a bit bolder perhaps as they ventures closer and closer to Claude’s mouth to the point when, as the segments are getting fewer, Dimitri pushes the one he offers Claude inside his mouth and lets, consciously or not, his gloved finger brushing against his lower lip. And it stays here the second too long Claude needs to suck on it, lips parted as he chews and lets the orange juice fall on his chin.

Dimitri leans in, by reflex, in need of licking the juice but he catches himself just in time not to. Claude watches him closely, his eyes burning with lust, begging for him to do more, to surrender to him, to touch him but he does none of it.

“Hum, your Majesty? Perhaps you should not lean so close to someone so sick?” Sylvain says from the other side of the room. He leans against the wall with Hilda who crosses her arms in front of her chest. She seems unamused by the whole situation. “And perhaps putting your finger in his mouth is not a good idea either- are they even listening to me?” He tells her in a sigh.

She looks back and shrugs. “At this point I don’t think they even remember we’re here.”

Dimitri seems to get out of this haze and stands up abruptly. He exits without looking back, and Sylvain follows after he shuts the door behind. Hilda sighs; she walks to the bed and takes Dimitri’s place. There’s an untouched orange’s segment on the trail. She takes the napkin and cleans Claude’s chin. “Seriously. The moment you’re out, you’re gonna fuck like rabbits again.”

Claude smiles, and takes the last bit of orange. “I hope so.”

He has him. He knows it. And he knows Dimitri knows it too now.

Claude exits the infirmary the day after, and to the war council another day after. He sits next to Dimitri as usual, and salutes him, “Your Majesty.” He says, and can’t help but smile at the way Dimitri stares back at him – he’s sort of afraid, anxious perhaps of what he’ll do this time, to arouse him, certainly, or perhaps he doubts his own ability to resist him. Claude is determined to break all his defences, which he knows by heart, one by one; after all he did it before, and even if forewarned is forearmed, Dimitri cannot resist him much longer. Claude knows all his likes and weaknesses, and he knows how to make him snap. He just needs to be patient, but that, again, isn’t one of his strong points when passion is concerned.

He starts very little, the usual flirt – glances, longing, from the other side of the room, and he’s pleased but not surprised that Dimitri searches for his gaze more than he should. Then it’s the small touches that demand for more, a hand on his arm and later in the day on his back, dangerously getting lower and lower but leaving Dimitri’s clothes just before it reaches the sensitive part. He won’t pretend it’s not a torture, for them both, and more than once Claude returns to his quarter alone and closes the door shuts to stroke himself, sometimes a couple of times a day.

News from the battlefield isn't so good but for some reasons the urgency of the situation doesn’t strike him. Instead, he contemplates how Dimitri is so close to pushing him against a wall and ravish him in front of a large audience, and he knows exactly the kind of words that would make him break. Yet he doesn’t say them, because he likes the wait, unexpectedly, he likes the chase, he likes to ache a bit more before their passion comes back to what it was. Gustave, Felix, they are talking, but Claude can’t listen. Only the sounds of his heartbeats in his ears as he witnesses how Dimitri can’t concentrate either matters. In these moments does he feel almighty. He has him in the palm of his hand.

That’s where he needs to change his behaviour if he doesn’t want to be chased again.

As the sun runs down and he is awaited for dinner with the rest of the Kingdom’s leader, Claude changes into more fancy clothes. He just adjusted his cravat around his neck when someone knocks on the door. He opens the door to Dimitri, who seems to have a reason to be here – he brought Claude’s coat, the one he gave him so long ago and that was still, it seems, in his possession – but doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Or rather, he knows but can’t accept it. He’s wearing black, tight pants and his turtle neck, and looks nothing but divine. He tied his hair in a semi bun, some bangs fall in front of his face. He’s so handsome Claude wonders why he doesn’t have a thousand courtesans at his side.

“I…” Dimitri looks at the coat not to look back at Claude, who literally devours his face and body, and somehow he thinks Dimitri knew exactly, at least deep inside his bones, that it would end up like this if he showed up to his room so lightly clothed compared to his usual attire, that he has a hidden purpose but seems too shy to take the fatal step, and so Claude steps back, an invitation to enter his bedroom.

His hands tremble when Dimitri steps in. His head spins. Dimitri closes the door with his back, securing them from the rest of the world.

Claude takes jolting breaths. Tension is palpable especially when he looks at Dimitri’s shoulders and neck, and they remain in the same position for perhaps a minute, or less; time flies differently depending on your state of mind after all, and the seconds before Dimitri drops the coat on the floor seems endless for Claude, longer than the wait he inflicted them to come to this conclusion.

The moment the coat hits the floor Dimitri rushes to him, his hands cupping his face and he finds his lips. He kisses him harshly, his tongue already searching to enter his mouth and he turns him around to push him against the door, a hand on Claude’s chin and the other trying to get under his shirt. Claude sounds his happiness in a long whine, he opens his mouth to suck on Dimitri’s tongue and shivers when his hand finally passes the fabric and runs on his stomach. He kisses and bites and moans. Dimitri’s movements are clumsy and rushed, harsh, needy; his lips run on the side of his neck while he fondles Claude’s ass, and forces their groin to collide, not hiding his erection. Claude smiles, victorious, and he even chuckles, to what Dimitri replies by biting on his shoulder. It hurts, Claude bleeds and Dimitri licks his blood but it feels so good, after all this time, Claude can’t feel his legs, he’s afraid he’ll fall on the floor so he curls them around Dimitri’s hips, let him hold him against the door while he ravishes his neck and mouth with hungry kisses, until he cannot hold it anymore.

Dimitri bends him on the bed. He lays him on his stomach and gets him half bare, holding him down by the shoulders with one arm, the others freeing his cock from his pants. Claude cries when he enters him so soon, it hurts but not for long; Dimitri gets a hold on his hand while his other arm supports him on the bed and he fucks him. There’s no better word. He’s hard and fast and utterly chaotic, he grunts each time he hits inside of Claude, his mouth wet and close to his ear. Claude blinks to erase the dawning tears at the corner of his eyes, his head forced to the side, facing the door. He recognizes in the way he moans that Dimitri is close, so close so soon when he hasn’t had time to build up his climax but he knew it would happen that way, they couldn’t start with a sane and loving sex, there was too much frustration and anger between them for that, they need something to exorcize their lost feelings before they can start anew.

Dimitri groans when he comes, he holds on Claude’s hand tight; he thrusts a couple of times, and then Claude only feels the cold and emptiness he leaves behind. The door opens and closes again. After a moment, Claude sits on his heels, his head against the edge of the bed, still looking at the door. The coat is still on the floor. He puts him on for dinner.

Dimitri doesn’t speak to him for days after that. But it’s alright. It’s just a matter of time. Claude already has won, and Dimitri will come back, he has no other choice.

“Your Majesty.” He salutes him at the next war council, and already he sees how it irritates Dimitri to the core.

“Claude.” He replies by courtesy. And the council starts.

Edelgard is said to march further into the Kingdom's territory again. Spies told them they were near the city of Gideon, the loss of such a place would tear their defence wild. This cannot happen. They’ll probably have to leave Fhirdiad and get back to the battlefield sooner than they expect, but Claude can’t care less – he’s okay with that, for some reasons he’s eager to get back to their old habits and to rediscover Dimitri’s tent all over again. He doesn’t fear the battles, they can’t reach him, he’s too obsessed and smitten to care about anything else but Dimitri and his mouth on him.

As the council goes on it is clear that none of them care about the best strategy to counter the Empire. Even the mention of Edelgard’s name can’t move Dimitri, for he is lost, captured by Claude’s spell, they are alone in their own world and nothing seems to be strong enough to break their bubble.

After minutes of stolen glances, locked gazes when they were bold enough, Claude purposely looks away, his chin resting on the back of his hands, but his apparent lack of interest hides a hidden motive, a new dangerous scheme pushed by his arousal alone. His head might face the opposite side of the long table, but his legs are turned to the opposite direct and his foot soon finds Dimitri’s boot.

At first Dimitri shoves it away, thinking Claude didn’t do it on purpose, but when Claude caresses his other boot, his face still looking away, Dimitri stares back in disbelief. Claude raises his foot along Dimitri’s calf and up his knee, then goes down, multiple times, never going any further until Dimitri can’t take it anymore. The anticipation drives him crazy. Dimitri spreads his legs under the table but Claude doesn’t take the bait, he languishingly purses his candid caresses, leaving Dimitri’s thighs desperately empty of any stimulation. Dimitri sends him daggers, but of course Claude can see, he fakes to listen to whatever Gustave is saying.

“Ahem.”

Hilda catches what they are doing under the table. She sends Claude a dark look and silently begs him to stop. This has no place to be in a war council, not when they’re discussing such important matters. At first, Claude obliges; he’s dizzy on lust but he knows when he overpasses his boundaries. His foot finds the floor again and his eyes set in front of him where Sylvain sits, and smirks.

He looks back at Dimitri though when he feels his foot against his leg.

But Dimitri isn’t patient. The tip of his boot soon finds his thighs and reaches as high as it can, and Claude has to bite his lower lip not to whine. Their eyes can’t part from other others, they don’t even realize the room has gone silent, witness of their naughtiness, until Hilda breaks the awkward silence.

“Oh, Claude, I don’t feel so well.” She says, holding her stomach. “Can you come with me?”

Startled, Claude takes a minute to register her demand. “Of course.” He stands up, happy that his clothes are large enough to hide with arousal, and he takes Hilda’s arm to escort her outside. She brings him near the gardens, to breathe some fresh air she says.

“Is there a chance that you could be pregnant?” He asks.

She slaps him.

“Oh, wrong question I guess.”

“Are you insane!?” he mutters, “How can you do this in front of the whole Kingdom’s nobility! Was one time not enough?”

Claude hasn’t noticed they were obvious. He didn’t care after all. It’s not their business after all, it’s between him and Dimitri. He looks around, the gardens are empty – it’s too cold outside anyway.

“The situation is critical. Edelgard is at the Kingdom’s gate, hence she’s taking back entire cities and all you can think about is to take all of Dimitri’s attention by beginning whatever you do as a foreplay in the middle of the most important war council we’ve been part of! You have no honour, Claude, I’m ashamed of you and your insatiable naughtiness.”

Claude rolls his eyes, but he knows he went too far this time. This is getting out of control. They can’t continue like this.

And as if his worries had been voiced aloud, Dimitri appears, his eye looking feverishly for something, until they fall on Claude.

“Oh. You’re there.” He walks to Hilda’s side not to stand too close to Claude. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No, I’m afraid I’ll have to go to the infirmary. Is the council over?”

“Not yet.”

“What are you doing here then?” Claude asks.

Dimitri looks at him for the first time since he joins them. “I, hn, needed some fresh air.” He looks back on his feet, knowing his lie sounds weak. Hilda runs away without them noticing.

“So, you needed some fresh air, your Majesty?” Claude provokes him.

A heartbeat later Dimitri shoves him against the wall and pins his wrist above his head, holding them with one hand. Under his gaze, intense and grave, Claude finds himself breathless, at loss of word to say.

Dimitri leans against his ear, his breath short. “Stop calling me that. You’re driving me crazy.” His lips run on Claude’s neck, breathes in his scent and sighs, tickling the sensitive skin. Claude whines under the lightness of his touch, it’s not enough. “You’re making me go crazy.” Dimitri repeats, and he delivers Claude from his misery by capturing his lips, his hand stroking him through his clothes. Claude replies enthusiastically by running his tongue on his lips and kisses back urgently, their tongue entwined, his wrists still up above his head. It’s different from last time, now Claude tastes something more than lust in these kisses, there’s tenderness and despair, and perhaps love, even; Dimitri kisses him slower and more gently, he takes his time to savour the inside of his mouth, the taste of his lips and skin and Claude lets him. He turns his head on the side to give him access to his ear and under, to the back of his jaw, that Dimitri so kindly assaults. This is nothing but bliss. Bent over him, Dimitri, leaving his wrist to hold the small of his back, lifts him from the ground. By reflex Claude circles his hips before Dimitri kisses his lips again, his mouth hot and wet from want. A thread of saliva connects them when they part, and Dimitri, his hands getting lower and under Claude’s underwear, silently asks for his permission.

“Here?” Claude says. He’s only replied by his bottoms meeting the cold air. He laughs. “You really are crazy aren’t you?”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“People might see us.”

“Do you care?”

There’s no point in arguing. Claude already feels him at his entrance, his body shivers. “No. Have me wherever you like.”

Dimitri kisses him before he enters him with no resistance and gosh, it feels so good. Claude has to let go of Dimitri’s lip to moan softly when Dimitri hits his prostate with each of his thrust, but soon he covers Claude’s lips with his own to hush him. Pushed against the wall Claude cannot do much but hold on Dimitri’s neck and let himself be loved, so well, his cheek burning, his breathing laborious, and his lips busy with Dimitri’s neck, or bitten by his own teeth as he tries, in vain, to be as quiet as possible. Dimitri isn’t as gentle as he can be, because after all they don’t have much time, someone might really see them and they need to be quick but that’s what makes it so good, so exciting, so unique.

Dimitri voices his pleasure when he gets closer to release. His grip on Claude’s thighs tightens, his hands will leave bruises Claude would be so happy to stare once it’s over. But some killjoy might interrupt their improvised coit, Claude hears footsteps coming their way – hopefully only one kind, meaning it’s at least not the end of the war council, and they don’t risk to see their whole allies in this compromising situation.

“Someone’s coming.” Claude whispers.

But Dimitri answers his worry by a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m close.”

“They’re close too!” Claude hurries, but then Dimitri fucks him harsher and quicker and he loses the ability to speak, or think, for a couple of seconds. As he announced Dimitri hits his climax after a couple of more thrusts and fills Claude, his moan hushed with his mouth stuck in Claude’s hair, who barely has time to recover from the assault when a monk marches their way.

Claude never thought they would use Dimitri’s coat that way. Hiding both their partially clothed bodies, Dimitri takes one end and rests his hand on the wall just beside Claude’s head, keeping their privacy intact from the accidental peeping tom. The monk passes by and salutes them, then disappears from their sight.

“You’re lucky he didn’t pass the other way.”

“The Cathedral is North, I had few doubts about the path he would take.”

“Oh, I get it, Your Ma-“

Dimitri silences him with a kiss once more, surprising Claude with the ardour he pours in it even after he hit his climax. “I told you. Don’t call me that.”

“I was asked to. In order for this kind of…” he looks down at their lower half, bare, dirties with Dimitri’s spend and his shaft, where he’s still proudly raised and aching for touch, “events to occur, I think.”

“Did they really think the way you called me was the only thing I cared about?”

“I think they were running out of ideas.”

Dimitri gives him an amused smile, the first in ages and Claude can’t help the one that appears on his face. Dimitri kisses his jaw, his neck and lower, and Claude gasps when His Majesty gets on his knees. “Dimitri.” He mutters. “We just barely avoided a catastrophe.”

“The war council won’t be finished before an hour or so. We have time.” Dimitri licks the inside of his belly button and drops kisses on the line his hairs trace to his groin. Dimitri breathes in, his tongue licking on his balls. Claude has to grasp on his hair to stay balanced, his back hits the wall behind, he closes his eyes; he’s in bliss right now.

“Besides, may I get ahead of myself and say this won’t take too long?”

Claude chuckles, “It all depends on your sucking abilities I guess?” Both know what Dimitri is capable of, but none voice the inherent inquiry behind Claude’s good words: Has Dimitri been using this skill when Claude was gone? Now is not the best time to think of the past, and the pain it inflicted and marked them so deeply. Now is a time to enjoy how Dimitri licks him and closes his mouth around the head and sucks him, his tips already wet, the rest of his cock hard and twitching around Dimitri’s strong hand. Dimitri hums when he tastes his precum, the vibration causing Claude to moan perhaps a bit too loud for their sake.

Dimitri sucks him until the grip on his hair hurts. “Are you really this close?”

“I’m afraid.” Claude pants, a real mess above him.

He eases the grip on Dimitri’s hair when he stops stroking him from the base. Dimitri leaves agonizing soft kisses along his length and nuzzles him to the tip again. He settles himself with his face straight in front of him. “Finish yourself.” He demands.

Claude watches him with his mouth agape, but he’s too horny to think twice. He strokes himself and quickly comes, mostly on Dimitri’s face, in a muffled groan. Dimitri waits until he’s totally spent to rise to his feet, not without kissing Claude along the way and when he reaches his lips Claude, boneless, lets himself fall in his lap, his buttocks still in the open air.

“Shall I bring you to your room?”

Thinking perhaps his voice would break the beautiful fragility of the moment, Claude nods against his cheek. He feels Dimitri putting his clothes back on and holding him into his arms until he gently puts him on his bed.

He sits at the edge, caressing the length of his legs mindlessly as he speaks when Claude remains uncharacteristically silent. “I’ve missed it.”

Hypnotized by his movements Claude takes a moment to reply. “Me too. I’ve missed you so much.” He turns on his side, his fingers joining Dimitri’s on his thigh. “Do you want to lie with me?”

They get naked once more they entwine their limbs, fingers, their tongues. Dimitri this time is never harsh, always caring and soft, tender to the core, he replies to all of Claude’s wishes and wants, takes him how Claude dictates him to and it lasts for the goddess only knows how long. The sun starts to go down back to earth once they finally lie in each other’s arms, Dimitri caressing his hair and despite the serenity of this moment Claude cannot help but dread what is to come. They first let their body talk for themselves but at some point, words from their heart will have to be said, explanation, excuses, arguments even perhaps, to what happened six months ago and how to fix it, for this moment of blissfulness not to be their last, or one of the few Fate accepts of them to have.

Claude dreads it because he has no idea of what Dimitri has gone through without him for so long. His body is an art that required him only a short time to master, but his mind, his heart and soul are an entire other story, and it wouldn’t be surprising if after what happened, Dimitri chose to close this part of himself to Claude, until Claude can claim to gain back his trust.

But the fact that they’re here, naked and calm in Claude’s bed, isn’t it a sign he has started? To forgive him? To trust him again? That’s the only thing Claude is dying to know. It scares him to no end as well, but he desperately needs to know and he desperately hopes his heart isn’t wrong.

“Will you one day forgive me?”

To his surprise the question doesn’t come from him. Claude rolls on his side to face Dimitri. He took off his eyepatch before they made love again, his thumb caresses the scar just under his eyelid.

“Did you?” He asks instead of replying.

The answer is slower to come than what he would have liked.

“Part of me regrets that I’ve reacted so violently to your…mischiefs, let's call them that. Not betrayal, because I know now you never meant to harm me.”

“Did you think it had been the case?” he asks, horrified.

Dimitri looks down, his eyes halt on the curve of his waist before the rest of his body disappears under the sheet. He leans in and leaves a loud kiss here, followed by a couple of soft ones. “I was wounded. I misinterpreted everything. It took me time,” he kisses his way back to Claude’s neck with butterfly kisses, “But I finally made the difference between you and me at the time we met, the time we first kissed, and the time I heard about your constant conundrum. In the peak of my feelings, I forgot that I too hadn't always been so taken by you, and that feelings could evolve. What’s matter is the present, it’s the kind of person you are today, the one I see and feel under my palm, and none of what I witnessed since you saved me and I woke up is made of even a fragment of what made me hate you so passionately, for having betrayed my trust. But I do still, resent the man you were back then, but I forgive you, the man that lies with me today, I forgive you utterly and absolutely.” To conclude his speech Dimitri once more initiate the kiss that he wants tongueless, strong and meaningful, as if he were conveying all these feelings of trust into it. Claude cannot even close his eyes and he leans in, enrapture by his words, moving to the core by his new devotion.

“I must renew my inquiry, which answer could break my heart, but for which I will never hold you any grudge. Will you ever forgive me for the pain I’ve put you through, for not trusting you when I should have, for pushing you away so violently, without listening, without giving you a possibility to come back?”

A thumb on his lower lip, Dimitri waits for his answer, or perhaps for an authorization to kiss him again, something Claude is never tired of. He snuggles under Dimitri’s chin, his arms around his waist. He hasn’t gained all this musculature yet, but it’s still the place where he feels the most at home. “I can’t say I haven’t been angry. It took me time to understand your motivation, even if as you suspect, I didn’t agree with any of them. I hate when I can’t read your mind. Even during my time here, I couldn’t understand why you were still avoiding me.”

“When I met you again, after those five years we spent at the academy I was still troubled. I didn’t know who I was. I’ve been liberated from my demons not so long ago and I was still trying to decide what kind of King, no, what kind of man I wanted to be and you arrived.” Dimitri says. He rests his chin on Claude’s skull. “You arrived and you changed so many things in my life that I couldn’t see who I was anymore. I won’t lie to you, the six months I’ve spent away from you allowed me to get a better grip of these problematics, and it made be better, in a way, and when I saw you again in Fhirdiad I feared for a moment that all this work I had done while you were gone was going to be reduce to ashes again, with only a bait of your eyelid, and I was scared to even meet your eyes, scared to see my determination crumble at your feet, as it used to be before I forced you to leave.”

At some point their separation had been inevitable. Now is the time to construct a solid base for brighter tomorrows. Claude never expected to have this much ascendancy on Dimitri from the start but as he said, he met him at the moment of his life where his soul was the most accessible and vulnerable, and he left traces, he forged it against his own body.

“I think I never hold you any grudges.” He replies eventually. He feels against him that Dimitri has turned utterly still, attentive, “I put the blame on others. On your men, mostly Felix by the way, and on me as well; but you, never. I thought you’ve been deceived, that they manipulated you as I tried to at first, but I could never find the strength to hate you.” He waits then, there’s something he wants to say, but doesn’t know if he should, the timing doesn’t sound ideal. “I…I think I loved you too much for that.”

He hopes Dimitri won’t take this overture and pierces through his defence.

But of course, it’s Dimitri, he’s a romantic and so he does. Claude feels his heartbeat under his cheek, it’s quickening.

“Do you still love me?”

It hammers in his chest, and now Claude’s joins in. None can know which one beats faster.

“I think it’s too early to say.” And deep inside Claude knows the answer, so deeply and dearly it hurts, but the timing is, as he decided, poorly chosen. “After all, didn't you say it yourself? You’re a brand new man now, I haven’t had time to meet you properly.”

His answer is doomed to disappoint the one who asked first, and whose voice, filled with hope when the question was asked, gave away the reply he longed for, and perhaps the one he would have given if Claude had asked him the same. Yet Dimitri doesn’t sound upset when he speaks again, “That’s probably wise indeed. We don’t need to rush after all.” 

He kisses the top of his head.

“No indeed, we don’t have to.”

The effervescence they hear coming from the corridor informs them that the war council met its end. Claude cannot fathom how they keep going without Dimitri but doesn’t ask as for why, after all the reply matters not. The conclusion reaches their ear not sooner than during dinner. They will march to Gideon, Dimitri agrees to the plan Gustave and Sylvain came up with, and with a mischievous smile Claude accepts Dimitri’s invitation to come to battle with him.

He can’t wait to be inside his tent again. He can’t wait to fall back into their old habits, the laces, the cords, whatever they had at arm’s reach in the peak of the moment, the hidden rendezvous, the whispers behind his back- No, this needs to cease.

But it won’t prevent them from arguing, on the contrary, when night comes, and Claude will find that without his sly persuasion skill, Dimitri can be extremely stubborn when he wants it, especially at the matter of war.

War can never be predicted, just as a man’s heart; Claude still has to learn, despite his past experience, that it doesn’t take a lot from Fate to destroy all his certainties and hopes for a better future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw here is [my twitter](https://twitter.com/doctor_queenie) ! Come here to chat and support me <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is that so? Are you leaving because I don’t satisfy you anymore?” Fear speaks for him, his common sense has gone too far to be invoked. “I never thought you’d be that kind of man.”
> 
> “I never said it was the reason. I’m leaving because I don’t believe in your strategy. You said I’d stay because I’d miss your cares too much, I just replied saying it won’t be the case.” Claude runs his hands under his shirt, his mouth on his jaw – he still needs him horny at some degrees, even if the conversation is dragging a bit too long for his liking. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll be okay.”
> 
> As to answer Claude’s worries Dimitri walks them to the bed, his intention cleared as day, and soon his chest gets bare just like Claude’s. It’s warm, his heart beats so fast against his ribcage. “I cannot let you leave me.” Claude’s legs hit the bed, Dimitri holds him by the small of his back, his kisses are wet and demanding, almost desperate. “I won’t handle another separation. You have to stay.”
> 
> “I won’t.” Claude says quietly between kisses.
> 
> “I’ll make you.”
> 
> “What are you going to do about it, hn?” Claude dares him, his eyes dark, his mind clear. “Are you going to choke me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote 34k for a single paragraph.

Claude storms into the tent. “This must be a joke, right?”

In front of him Dimitri, sitting at his desk with some paperwork in hand, which judging by the mud on the piece of paper might come from his scout, sighs before anything, as if he had foreseen the altercation before Claude broke into his tent. “Good morning.”

“Morning? Did you just- Sylvain went straight to me after what you’ve told them! Attacking by the front? Really? This is suicidal! We don’t have the troops, we’ll lose the protection from the city walls,” Claude enumerates the numerous flaws of Dimitri’s insane plan counting on his fingers, “Plus, it’s going to rain, and most of our troops are on horses. We won’t be able to manoeuvre. Do I need to remind you they have more mages than us?”

Dimitri looks back at his desk; from where he stands Claude witnesses how his fingers tense just slightly, but he is too angry to move any closer. He doesn’t trust his own fist at the moment, fearing it might land on Dimitri’s face, no matter how pretty it is. “I’ve heard all of these arguments this morning. Do you think you’re the only strategist I have under my sleeve?”

“No, but I’m the best and by far; and it doesn’t take to be good to see the catastrophe we are rushing into with your poor strategy!”

“Claude, would you please calm down and listen to what I have to say or will you shout until I kiss your boots and praise your immense intellect?”

Bitten by the crude words, Claude inhales sharply. Sylvain told him they had a fight earlier, which would explain why he seems so aggressive, but even against him? “No? This is, as I said earlier in case you weren’t paying attention, purely insane; so except if there’s something you’re hiding from every single one of your friends there is absolutely no scenario where we get out of this battle  _ alive _ .” Claude replies, his temper slowly getting out of his grip. “It’s not even a question of winning at this point!”

“So what, we wait until she reaches the gates and then wait again? Do you think a siege is the best option we have?”

“This is far from being satisfying, but unless we have more information about their exact troops we need to advance prudently.”

And suddenly Dimitri rises to his feet. The chair falls behind, probably more by hazard than because he wanted to add a dramatic effect – something Claude would have done on purpose, for example – and his fists curl at his side. He still cannot look at Claude, and Claude likes to think it’s because he’ll surrender if he does. “Where’s the honour of being prudent if we end up dead all the same? If we occupy the fort, we’re doomed. If we go and fight, we have a chance to win. She doesn’t expect us to.”

“Of course she doesn’t, she thinks, foolishly, that we care about our lives!”

“I do care about life!” Dimitri shouts, his eye, blue and furious, stabbing Claude in the face where it lands. Goddess, even when he’s mad, he’s so beautiful, even perhaps more than usually. “Do you really think I’ll sacrifice some of my troops on a whim? I am not like you-“

Anger boils in his veins. Claude raises his fist and Dimitri stops him a good centimetre away from his cheekbone, preventing them of a couple of broken bones considering the strength and will Claude put into it. His eyes hit harder though, “I’m sorry.” Dimitri says immediately. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No you shouldn’t have. But you did.”

He extracts his arm from Dimitri’s grip and walks to the exit. He doesn’t even want to be chased after this time, but Dimitri does nonetheless. “Claude, please, I-“

“Shut up!” Is the only thing Claude yells back before he pushes the curtain away from his path and his eyes meet the sunlight. He didn’t even have breakfast and they argued already, is there a better way to start the day?

Claude eats a clementine with hot tea, waiting for Hilda to wake up; he looks forward to venting about the situation with her, and perhaps she could help him come up with a finest strategy that would satisfy Dimitri and his survival instinct all the same. This is going to be tough though, and even now Claude wonders if they shouldn’t go back to Fhirdiad and wait for Lorenz to come back. But if they do, the Empire will take this place, and there won’t be anything blocking their way before the capital. Either they defeat them here and now, or they retreat to Fhirdiad and accept the siege here.

He closes his eyes; he cannot think straight, not after what Dimitri said – it hurt, still does, and so much. To invoke this incident again, after all they had gone through? Claude thought this was behind them, that Dimitri forgave him and trusted him again, but if in the spike of anger such remarks resurfaced, then he might have been wrong, so wrong.

The wound of mistrust is one Claude cannot deal with well, or heal easily. This is by far the worst insult Dimitri could have given him.

“I can’t believe he said that.” Hilda comforts him as best as she can considering she has just woken up. “This is so…petty? Or something you would do if you were really, really wounded.”

“I’d never say that, not to him at least.”

“You do truly love him.”

Claude puts his tea cup down. “Why do you say that as if you were surprised? I do love him. A whole lot even. And I am so angry at myself for that, trust me.”

Sighing through his nose, Claude looks blankly at the tent’s hessian. He’s enraged, and he regrets so dearly his promise of not trying to influence Dimitri with seduction. But a promise is a promise, and this one especially is the most important he has ever done in his life. It’s the core of their new relationship, of the kind of man he wants to be for him – Dimitri, whatever he says or thinks is best at the moment, makes him want to be a better man and no one ever did that to him before. It’s a blessing as much as a curse, but he hopes deep inside that it’ll turn out well; after all, why have good behaviours if it’s to lose at the end of the day? This is not how his ideal world works. Fate rewards the Just.

The rumour spreads in the camp at the speed of light and divides the faction in two groups: the one enhanced by their King’s charisma and who will follow him to death, no matter the circumstances and those questioning the feasibility of such a crazy initiative. Oddly, Claude stands in the middle of both.

“You’re our only hope.” Sylvain tells him again when night comes. He isn’t supposed to know about this but he knows Felix and he made a pact so long ago about their deaths and it shows in Sylvain’s eyes that he’s thinking about it, it shows in Felix’s body language, and Claude suspects one of their tents is going to stay empty until they go to battle. “All his strategy relies on his monstrous strength and the effect of surprise, but he doesn’t remember well our last battle against the Empire. He lives because you arrived out of nowhere, but now you’re here and the Empire surely knows.”

Beside him Felix huffs, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He’s nervous, it never happened before. “That is all your fault, so fix it.” He says. When Claude raises an eyebrow, he goes on, “He’s in a sort of state of Grace, call it however you want. He feels invisible with you by his side. He doesn’t want to say it but it shows on his face, you’re the trump card he bets all our lives on.”

“Then he’s blinded by my so-called genius.” Claude has never felt so terribly unoptimistic. “I cannot do miracles.”

“You brought him back alive, I guess it’s enough for him to think you can do it one more time.”

He walks back to his tent with heavy steps. Gazing at the stars, he thinks of the irony of their situation once more, that more than ever his presence is toxic for Dimitri, as it has a bad influence on him and his decisions if what Felix claims is true at least indeed.

An idea comes to him then, but it’s a risky bet once more. A bet on their lives, but they are already doomed at this point; if Claude doesn’t act both the troops he brought with him and Dimitri’s would lose, there’s no denying it. And well, if his plan goes wrong, at least Hilda and Marianne would come back safe to the Alliance, and there would be hope still.

He steps back and walks to Dimitri’s tent, his heart at peace with his scheme.

He halts just before the curtain. Dedue is here but he lets him in. Things have changed so much in six moons, and now the tables have turned upside down. What to do, to say now? How to manoeuvre Dimitri? Certainly not by a frontal attack like he adores so much, even if strength he has, Claude isn’t sure this won’t end up in cries and shouts and nowhere he wants them to be. On the other end, if he’s patient enough to find a way to put Dimitri exactly where he wants him, there’s hope. It’s tiny, but it’s here.

Claude knows him by heart. It’s a calculated risk.

“You seem in a better mood for a cordial chat.” Dimitri says before he has the chance to see him. He’s still wearing his armour, sitting in front of his desk with a camomile in hand, half finished; he’s been waiting for him, he expected him. This is a good way to start.

“I have to give you that.” Claude hides his true intention behind a blank face, hoping Dimitri won’t read anything past it. He needs to appear resigned and perhaps a bit sad, but not too much or he’ll be figured out. This is the tougher part, because if Claude knows Dimitri like the back of his hand, he’s afraid the same could be said for the other. “I am curious as for how you manage to lure yourself into thinking we could win if we attack them like this.” And Claude approaches the map of the area and points at the front of where they think Edelgard’s army is. Dimitri watches his finger, then his eye runs on his arm to reach his face slowly. Claude raises an eyebrow. “Why not by the right side? There’s a big tarn here, with the rain we will be hidden with mist.”

“You just came up with that, don’t you?”

Claude can’t help but let a laugh escape his lips. “Is it that silly?”

“Even Mercedes can come up with better plans.”

“Well, I’m discovered then.” Claude takes a step closer and stops behind Dimitri’s chair, his hand playing with a brand of his hair that fell from his ear. He puts it back behind then caresses his hair. “Perhaps I didn’t come here to talk about strategy.”

Dimitri leans back into him, his head falls on his chest. “Perhaps?”

“Perhaps I didn’t come here to talk at all.”

His hand caresses his skull and the back of his neck before coming on the front, his fingers touching as much skin as they can in spite of Dimitri’s armour. It’s not hard to fake desire, it’s less easy to refrain from showing too much – Claude cups Dimitri’s cheek, bends his head and kisses him with their head backwards. It’s soft, too soft perhaps for what he’s supposed to have in mind.

“Are you really this pessimist about our future?” Dimitri says once their lips are freed. “It is rather unlike you to rush into my tent the night before our departure to ask for my favours. Have you come here in fear of an imminent death and in search of a last memorable night of love?”

Claude silences him with a kiss, needy this time, but short – urgent even. “I want you. Is that so bad?”

“Not tonight Claude. I have to sharpen my strategy, since no one wants to even elaborate with me.” Dimitri leaves a soft kiss on Claude’s cheek. “Beside, we won’t fight until a couple of days, even if the Empire’s troops were marching quicker than we expect they will have to get through the mountains, and it’s not something easy even for my troops. Be reassure, there will be other nights before we might put our lives in the line.”

“Dimitri…” Claude sits on his lap, knocking the cup of camomile on the desk by inadvertence which spreads on Dimitri’s parchment – he groans, but soon Claude catches his neck and kisses him again, each time more passionately. “I want you,” he repeats, “Tell me when did you acquire the capacity to resist me?”

It’s harder than he thought with the armour in the way, it’s harsher on his bones but Dimitri caresses his face still, his mouth is gentle, too gentle on his jaw, he doesn’t bite, his tongue remains hidden; “I’m still working on it.” He replies, between sweet kisses; he doesn’t want Claude to feel unloved, but clearly has other plans for the night. “But I must admit that if I were looking forward to your visit tonight, I had much less pleasant activities in mind. I need your lights.”

“You know my opinion. I want your love.”

“Claude.”

“I need your hands on me.” To prove his point Claude holds Dimitri’s wrist on his waist and pushes his hands lower. Leaning forward to link their forehead together, Claude lets out a long sigh when finally Dimitri shows small signs of weakness and fondles his ass.

“Claude.” His voice is alarmed and alarming, and the way Dimitri holds his chin now firmly with his palm is the proof he isn’t buying Claude’s game any longer. “What’s the matter?”

“What?” Claude leans in to capture his lips, a sly attempt to distract him but Dimitri holds him firm, forbidding him to move. He won’t fall for it. “Do I have the right to crave for my beloved?”

“You’re not hard.”

Oh. To think it’s how Dimitri found out about his scheme.

“So tell me, what’s going on? I know you enough to know you’re not trying to seduce me to change my mind – no, you would have liked it too much not to get excited by the idea  _ alone _ – and there’s something dull in your eyes; they don’t shine like they’re supposed to when you look at me.”

“Do you think so highly of yourself to assume I must always look at you with awe and want?” Claude gets out from Dimitri’s lap and runs a hand on his hair, a sign of uneasiness. Dimitri falls for it.

“What is bothering you? What’s this all about Claude? I can’t read you.”

“What would you do if you were facing an impossible situation, where you had to choose between lots, lots of innocents’ lives, and the love of your life?”

Claude’s cheeks burn at the last part, it wasn’t how he had formulated it previously in his mind and it skipped through his lips in spite of him. He internally smiles though when he sees it has the same impact on Dimitri’s face, but that is soon replaced with a frown when he understands what the rest of the words meant.

“I think I’ll find a way to not have to make that choice.”

“Let’s say you’ve tried, countless times, but your loved one is especially stubborn.” Claude adds bitterly. There’s no way Dimitri can’t see where he’s leading. His shoulders are tensed again, it’s a good sign. “Imagine that you’ve run out of options. What would you do?”

“Claude, what is it? Is it an ultimatum?”

“What, would you, do?” Claude repeats louder, insisting on each syllable. He waits for Dimitri to give him an answer, and he cannot wait to see which one he’ll choose.

“I’ll…if it were, as you said, the love of my life,” it’s a real torture to stare at his eye when he says this line, Claude cannot help his cheek from burning but he has to remain strong, the fate of his troops, of Fódlan, depends on him, “Then I’ll find a way and stay by their side, confident that together we could prevent a massacre and achieve greatness so big the Heavens couldn’t have dreamed them.”

Claude takes some time to digest his choice. Dimitri is a fool to have fallen into his trap so easily, but at least now he knows what he has in mind – he wants Claude to stay, it’s part of the plan, and he truly thinks they can achieve the impossible together but by what, the magical power of love? Utter nonsense.

“Liar.” He says, and Dimitri looks bemused in front of him. “You did not choose love. You chose your men when they told you to get rid of me. You could have chosen me, but you didn’t.”

And it’s painful yet so satisfying to see how Dimitri never expected him to take this old road, as Dimitri did by mistake the same morning. “Claude,” He panics, he takes a step forward, “That was-“

“So long ago? You were a different man? Maybe. But you told me yourself it was a necessity for you at that time. Isn’t that right?”

Dimitri has his hands tied, and he knows it. He dreads what’s to come, because Claude sees him taking a big breath and he reads panic in his eye. It’s not comfortable when the ground you walk on suddenly crumbles, Claude knows something about that. Until then, all is going according to plan, and Claude might be bold enough to say he is quite proud of what he has achieved so far. Soon perhaps he’ll be able to call it a victory even.

But he needs to reach their breaking point first.

“It seems we cannot agree on our next move. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it never happened before.”

“Of course, before you so cleverly whispered your wishes into my ears while I was making love to you.”

“Have I tried since I came back?” Claude moves just in front of him, but not close enough to take him by the collar if he fancied the idea – perhaps later, but not now. “I think I have stood my grounds. And I did it out of love for you. If I had been less…diligent on this part, perhaps we would not be having this conversation.”

“Do you regret it?” Dimitri’s voice is low and serious. They are walking a dangerous path.

“No. Not one bit.” Claude holds his gaze, does not quiver. “I respect you, us, more than anything else in the world. But I don’t share your views all the time. Worse, this time you’re rushing into the lion’s dent and you’re taking me and the Alliance’s forces in your folly. And as I failed to bring you back to reason with pure logic, you leave me with very few choices in hands.”

Dimitri takes a step forward, their chest almost colliding. “Claude, you must be joking.” He sees where all this is going.

“I’m afraid I’m not.” Claude hopes Dimitri has, like himself, the deliciously ironic impression of déjà-vu, as their current conversation mirrors almost perfectly one they had before, in Dimitri’s room in Fhirdiad. “And I’m afraid I came here to say goodbye.”

Dimitri holds him by the collar, violently. Claude gasps, he didn’t expect it so soon. “I won’t tolerate this. You cannot leave me now.”

“And why not? I’m not under your command, must I remind you of this little detail you seem to forget whenever you please.” Torn between the ache around his collar and the satisfaction of seeing Dimitri react this badly to his possible departure, Claude doesn’t know what kind of face to wear. “Perhaps you understand better my…insistence to spend the night in your bed. Of course, now that you made me spill it, I’m not sure we can ever be in the right mood.”

“Were you seriously going to take advantage of me again for your personal affair and leave me to wake up alone with an empty bed and half of my army gone?!”

“It’s not yours!” Claude yells back, “And you won’t do what you please with them. If I decide this is too risky, I’ll withdraw. This is as simple as that. Now can we go back to the most pleasant part before you definitely break the mood?”

Claude tiptoes to kiss Dimitri on the lips, to which he’s pleasantly surprised to get kissed back rather passionately – Dimitri has a hand behind his head already and another other one around his waist, pushing him forward into his lap.

“I can’t believe you.” He murmurs into his ear. “You’re playing with me again. You want me to punish you. This is just one of your dirty games.”

“I wish it were, Dimitri. Trust me, there’s no one who wished this to be nothing but a game.” Dimitri is already in the middle of undressing him, the hand around his waist comes inside his vest and makes the sleeves fall from his arms. Each time he feels vulnerable he cannot help but kiss his lips only, Claude realizes; that way Claude can’t speak, he can’t say he’s leaving, perhaps that’s what Dimitri is trying to achieve. “It’s not an ultimatum either, because I respect your decisions and you should respect mine. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“No.” He tears his shirt apart in one smooth motion that makes Claude shiver, not only from cold, and takes once more his face into the palms of his hands. He kisses him longingly, as if he never wanted to let him go – Claude is nothing but moved by his desperation, but it is not what they need right now. When Dimitri ends the kiss he takes a step back, his hands still holding Claude’s face as if he were afraid he’d be gone the moment he blinked. When he’s sure Claude isn’t going anywhere so soon he takes off his armour, which falls unceremoniously on the ground.

“My love.” Claude holds him into his arms as soon as the hard metal vanishes from his sight. “If it has to be the last time please, make tonight unforgettable.”

He knows very well how much this will upset him, to remind him even when they kiss that this is their last chance, the last moment of grace before everything falls apart. “You won’t leave. I’ll tie you so hard you will never leave this tent.” Dimitri’s mouth finds Claude’s neck, and especially the part where it meets his collarbone, one of his few weaknesses. He whines, he cannot help it. “And even if you could escape, even if I undid the laces, you’d come back for me on your knees and you’d beg for me to put them back on.”

“You always think so highly of yourself, don’t you?” Claude provokes him; against him Dimitri halts for a second perhaps, before he assaults the other side of his neck restlessly. “You think you’re the only one who can satisfy me, don’t you?”

To this Dimitri reacts, and he brings Claude’s head to his, their forehead bumping on each other with the force of jealousy. Dimitri’s eye is red with rage, Claude’s are calm yet daring, it’s a dangerous game Claude likes to play too much.

“Claude.” He groans. It’s a warning. Don’t go, don’t go there, it says. Or else.

“There’s plenty of people that would take your place in a flash. Who do you think showed me all those knocks? Did you think I was self-taught?” And it’s exhilarating to witness the exact moment Dimitri realizes this most simple truth, something so obvious his want and feelings for him made him unsee, forget, to protect his own heart from the hands that had been, once, touching the body he adores, hands and mouths and cords that weren’t his, that Claude enjoyed before he taught him about their delicious benefits. Claude goes on, high on provocation. “Compared to them, you still have so much to learn.”

It’s by far the hardest part to go through, witnessing pieces of Dimitri’s heart shattering with his words alone that spoke nothing but the truth; and if in a way Dimitri lacks some knowledge it is not, by far, what Claude looks for the most in his lovers – he doesn’t look for anything anymore, he has found exactly what he wants, or rather who, and this wouldn’t change for anything in the world. Normally of course Dimitri would know that, their bond is solid but right now he doubts, and Claude will gladly take the opportunity he created for him.

“Is that so? Are you leaving because I don’t satisfy you anymore?” Fear speaks for him, his common sense has gone too far to be invoked. “I never thought you’d be that kind of man.”

“I never said it was the reason. I’m leaving because I don’t believe in your strategy. You said I’d stay because I’d miss your cares too much, I just replied saying it won’t be the case.” Claude runs his hands under his shirt, his mouth on his jaw – he still needs him horny at some degrees, even if the conversation is dragging a bit too long for his liking. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll be okay.”

As to answer Claude’s worries Dimitri walks them to the bed, his intention cleared as day, and soon his chest gets bare just like Claude’s. It’s warm, his heart beats so fast against his ribcage. “I cannot let you leave me.” Claude’s legs hit the bed, Dimitri holds him by the small of his back, his kisses are wet and demanding, almost desperate. “I won’t handle another separation. You have to stay.”

“I won’t.” Claude says quietly between kisses.

“I’ll make you.”

“What are you going to do about it, hn?” Claude dares him, his eyes dark, his mind clear. “Are you going to choke me?”

Perhaps it’s all in his head, but for a second Claude thought Dimitri’s heart skipped a beat, and he forgot how to breathe. His eyes are boldly staring at his unique blue eye, darkened despite himself by his last remark, and under his palm that travels from Dimitri’s chest to lower places, Claude feels him burning with desire, just as much as he is. When Dimitri doesn’t reply he knows he has reached his breaking point. This is when everything can happen, for better or worse, and for a moment Claude is afraid he lost when Dimitri withdraws from his lap.

But it’s only to look for Claude’s cravat. He puts it into a ball and pushes Claude on the bed.

“Open your mouth.” He orders. Claude shivers, he obeys, his eyes never leaving Dimitri’s as he finishes to undress them both after he gagged him. Dimitri leaves Claude bare, cold and anticipating his next move with anguish, but soon his worries are hushed, paradoxically some would say, by the presence of thick ropes and a ribbon that Dimitri puts aside for now. He straddles Claude’s waist, goosebumps already running on his sensitive skin as he imagines already what’s to come, and about how he ridiculously wants it. Dimitri is kind enough not to blind him immediately, he knows how much he loves to watch him tie him tight, to watch him handling the ropes with care and a certain delicacy some might think the situation doesn’t ask for – it’s all the contrary. It’s all about sensuality and trust and nothing is ever brutal, at least not for Claude, nothing truly hurts, no one masters the other. Those who think there’s a dominant, a master, are fools, for there is nothing but two men slaved of their love for the other, their want and unconventional desire the weapons they chose to fight with.

With his eyes Claude closely watches every ones of Dimitri’s gesture as if he adores them, religiously speaking; he ties his ankles first, together, but before he curls the rope around them his face falls between his thighs, and he kisses his navel so softly, too lightly even, never touching where Claude craves attention, and goes down along his inner thighs before kissing more harshly when his mouth reaches his knee. He bites on the bony skin there, and on his calf, he licks his hairy legs as if he doesn’t bother him. He would have kissed his feet and toes if they had had a bath before, Claude somehow is certain of that – they did it once, only; Claude remembers fondly the night Dimitri sucked on his big toes for long minutes and managed, by some sort of miracle, to get him hard with that only, and his tongue licking the sole of his foot perhaps. Careful that the malleolus don’t collide, Dimitri finishes the first act of their game with Claude as a sole spectator, who leans on his elbow, his mouth still full, and his eyes share his wonderment instead. At his feet, Dimitri doesn’t look back but notices the attention all the same; once Claude’s ankles are sealed he kisses the small area behind the malleolus, his lips ghostly against his skin, while his hands caresses his legs. Dimitri comes up by taking care of the other leg he neglected when he got down, once more ignoring what his love aroused between Claude’s legs for now. His torso settled between his thighs, Dimitri lets his head drop on Claude’s stomach, humming his scent for a couple of times through his nose before he allows his mouth to taste it. Under his touch Claude contracts and whimpers, his body burning already for more than this obvious teasing, but enjoying more than he’ll ever admit the slowness and dedication Dimitri puts into it. While his hands are still free for him to move, Claude locks his fingers in Dimitri’s hair, accompanying his journey up to his chest, and he resists a moan when by doing so Dimitri’s stomach brushes past his cock, half hard from light touches and anticipation mostly. Unlike he usually does when something of the sort occurs, Dimitri doesn’t tease him about it. His mouth comes on his neck, he sucks on the skin there instead. He seems in his own little world, one Claude would soon follow him.

“You’re so silent.” Comes a whisper to his ear, Claude closes his eyes in delight. “It’s so uncharacteristic of you. Most of the time I like your voice. I love your cries, especially when you say my name.” His lips, wet from their previous kisses, run from his ear to his cheekbone and tickles the side of his nose before going down on his opened mouth. Dimitri brushes his full lips on Claude’s parted ones thanks to the gag in his mouth, starting from the right corner to his upper lip, and on the lower one. He does not kiss him. “But you’ve been so cruel to me.” His hand searches for the rope again, both his eyes fixate Claude with something that makes Claude shivers with a part of uneasiness, yet excitement. He isn’t scared, he told him before and will repeat to whoever passes this tent that he trusts Dimitri with his life, but he’s always a bit more cautious when it’s a side of him he’s never seen before that appears in front of him. What runs into his mind right now? He hopes not much, at least, nothing too organized, for it will mean he’s far less invested in this than Claude intended him to be. The rope slides against his arms. “My heart is tired, it bleeds for all the time we lost, and the one I keep losing by not embracing you with all the love I store within the days, longing for our night reunions. I won’t let your pretty mouth mangle me any longer.” Claude feels the rope circling his wrist but not close on him yet. He cannot help but stare, mesmerized as Dimitri never looks away from his eyes either; it’s like they’ve enraptured each other in a very tiny portion of time and space and nothing else matters, or exists but themselves, it’s like there’s no war raging outside, it’s like none of their friends are gone, and it’s exactly why, Claude thinks, he fell in love with Dimitri so quickly and so entirely – he who never stopped looking for blind spot, poison recipe, potential exits, assassination threat, five different strategies to save the day, he who never stopped  _ thinking _ , planning one, two, several steps ahead, when with Dimitri he can let it all go and not fear the aftermaths. Here he’s safe. Even when his limbs are restrained. Even when his body hurts with pleasure. Even when he’s short of breath. Dimitri has him, he has his back and his future, and he holds his heart in the palm of his hands.

He forgot already what this night is about. Are they going to battle? Against who? 

Dimitri drags him to a sitting position. He holds his arms behind his back as he ties the rope, surprising Claude by doing so. It’s tighter than what it used to be. “You’re not going anywhere.” Claude already forgot where he wanted to go – out of this bed? Never. The rope goes from his wrist to his front, crossing on his chest and going back, brushing against his arms that are now glued to his side. “You’re all mine tonight.” He kisses his eyes one by one, his thumbs caressing his temples, Dimitri leans to his ears, his voice almost hollow. “Do you trust me?” He asks in a different tone.

Silenced by his own cravat, Claude doesn’t nod to assent; instead their eyes meet for long seconds before he winks, twice, with his right eye, and shudders when Dimitri obscures his sight with the blindfold. From them on he cannot move, speak or see any of what Dimitri has in store for him, but the effect of surprise, the unknown, the thrill of letting someone else in care of his fate is the best reward, and Dimitri has long proved how easily his hands and mouth can be intoxicating. 

Blind, each of his touches, as light as they are, sends shivers down his spine. Dimitri runs his parted lips the long of his neck down his chest without kissing him, leaving a wet trace behind. He moves quicker to what his mind has chosen to focalise on first, and his head set in between his legs. Dimitri takes no time to take Claude in his mouth down to the base, the flat on his tongue running on his dorsal vein before leaving his cock wet with his saliva hitting the cold air. Under his touch Claude contracts his thighs, his moans are hushed by the cloth in his mouth. He raises his legs, tries to force Dimitri to suck him again by pushing his heels on his back but he’s soon silenced, not by a kiss, but by a grunt, threatening. Dimitri pushes his chest on the bed. Claude feels his breath, hot, furious, against his cheek. “Don’t. Move.” he urges him, before his mouth finds the crook of his neck for the countless time tonight and bits him harshly, his teeth giving, with their sharpness, Claude’s retribution. Once he’s done, Dimitri’s bloody lips caress their harm before running higher to Claude’s ear. He shudders. “Or else, you’ll be punished. Severely.” A hand reaches the other side of his face up his skull and pulls on his hair, as to prove a point. Claude’s groan gets trapped in his throat. His heels fall lifeless on the mattress when Dimitri goes down again, spreading his legs as far as he can before his eyes set on Claude’s cock again, harder than before.

“You’re unbelievable.” He murmurs.

Claude isn’t sure this was meant for him to hear, but the blindness enhances the rest of his senses. He’s surprised by Dimitri’s words though, hasn’t he had time to know him well enough to learn all his dirty secrets by heart? He should have by now, he does; each of his touches hurts just the right way, in all the right places and it strikes him, only now that Dimitri might have learned, by his mistakes, a lot more of what Claude’s mind is truly made of than anyone Claude had met in his entire life. He’ll think about it later, for now all his attention is concentrated in a very precise and sensitive part of his body, one Dimitri takes care so well, with one hand stroking his shaft and the other massaging his balls, for now at least. With the tip of his tongue he tastes Claude’s precum, earlier than he would have liked to. It’s time for a change of strategy if they want it to last.

As he gets on his elbow, with Claude’s feet resting on his back, Dimitri hollows his cheeks, electing a muffed moan and a thrust of Claude’s hips; his hand comes on his hip to immobilize him, his grip is firm, it hurts. “What did I just say?” But it’s not like Claude can help it, his pleasure is too strong not to be shared and Dimitri knows it but that’s the trick, he thinks, with the few neurons still functioning, somehow, that’s what’s exciting in all this - the buildup, storing everything inside until it has no other option but to explode, literally, and turning Claude into a complete mess, unable to tell his right from his left, the sky from the ground. That’s why he remains still when two fingers enter him slowly, then another one, coat with saliva, and Claude would have liked to laugh ironically. This is nothing but sweet torture. Claude wants the real deal, he wants Dimitri inside him, to tear him apart and fuck him restless until he cannot think at all.

Even if Dimitri already knows what Claude desires above all he doesn’t give in; instead, he takes his time, despite his own lust that he must refrain - Claude feels him so hard against his chest when their face align again, he cannot see but he feels his weight on his chest, his nose against his jaw, his full lips sucking on his earlobe and he moans, his teeth bite on his cravat. It’s a blissful agony to feel his tip so close to his rear, juicy from desire already, and yet not giving in; it’s all the more frustrating when Claude cannot voice any of it, since his hands are tied and his voice hushed, his limbs restrained and his resolve curled around Dimitri’s little finger. He told him not to move so he’ll oblige, and cannot do anything but wait for his mercy. He knows that the better he’ll behave, the greater reward he’ll obtain at the end of the day.

Dimitri must have thought he did good, because eventually he enters him, without warning and entirely, and he does not reprimand Claude when he arches his back, the same moment Dimitri lets out a groan, but Claude is not out of trouble, far from it. Dimitri moves so slowly it’s turning him crazy. His forehead falls on his, their nose almost touching, almost, Claude raises his head to get more friction, more touch, but Dimitri doesn’t let him have it.

He knows what he wants and he won’t touch him, he won’t remove the blindfold.

Claude tries to show his impatience by shaking his face from left to right each time Dimitri intends to kiss him. Losing patience, Dimitri grasps on his chin and thrusts into him harder.

“Impatient aren’t we? I can feel how you move against my hips. You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you? Whore.” Dimitri leans and captures his bottom lip, biting on it when Claude enthusiastically meets Dimitri’s thrusts once more. “What are you going to do without me? Who are you going to beg? Tell me.”

Claude groans in response, and suddenly Dimitri stops and takes the gag out of his mouth. While Claude coughs a bit, his fingers detach the lace that was forbidding his eyes to see.

“Tell me.” He repeats, lower this time, but once Claude meets his eyes he knows he doesn’t mean it to be softer. Inside of him Claude feels him throb, his cock is hot and fully inside, so big and thick and filling him like nothing else ever did, not even the thrill of power or knowledge, or flying so high in the sky on a wyvern’s back. Nothing compares to this, nothing compares to what’s to come.

Claude stares, he forces himself not to blink and remains silent, thus turning Dimitri utterly mad.

“Tell me.” He groans, his hands on his chest, his eyes burning with a desire Claude cannot kind define - is it lust purely? Probably not, Dimitri needs to hear he will never get replaced, can never, especially tonight, but Claude won’t give it to him. There’s a second breaking point they need to attain together.

Pearls of sweat run on Dimitri’s chest and fall on his hands, on Claude’s chest, joining his own. Claude is silent but he breathes loudly, he feels breathless more by the tension between them and that materializes by Dimitri’s grip dangerously climbing on his collarbones than from what’s happening to his lower half. When he feels Dimitri’s fingers flirting with his pulse his eyes change, his gaze is darker, daring, his lips curl into a devilish smile; he taunts him, because it’s the only way Dimitri can secure the place Claude let him occupied for so long in his bed.

_ ‘Are you going to choke me?’ _

It’s faint at first. Both Dimitri’s thumbs caress his Adam’s apple before sliding to the opposite side and go down, his hands stopping at his shoulders. He starts to move again and the grip tightens on Claude’s neck. The faster he moves, the more he chokes him, and their eyes never leave the other’s. Claude notices at first how Dimitri’s valid eye is utterly clouded by desire, just as his must be, but it’s not an observation his mind has the luxury to make for a long time. Dimitri grips on him harder and Claude has trouble breathing. His head spins from the lack of blood going to his head and from each of Dimitri’s thrusts inside him. He feels like falling from his wyvern in an endless sky, the bed he’s lain on falls with him, his vision gets blurry and dark on the side - he opens his mouth, his eyes unfocused, he’s so close to bliss, he’s about to come but he falls, too fast, and he warns Dimitri perhaps a second too late.

He blinks again, twice, with his right eye and the grip around his neck disappears just in time before his climax hits him, harder than ever in a strangled cry. The world spins still, faster than before, his vision turns impossibly bright before it goes back to its usual darkness, and then, nothing. The void.

* * *

Claude wakes up in an empty bed.

The first thing he registers is that his arms are free. He rolls on his side, sees the mark on his wrists and only then he knows that it hadn’t been a dream. How embarrassing, to pass out in the middle of action, from pleasure and his foolishness, to think he could endure more than his body could. He cannot imagine how bad Dimitri must have felt when he witnessed him lose consciousness after he had his hands around his throat for so long. He did nothing wrong, saw the signal and released him right on time, Claude is the only one to blame but hopefully, no damage has been done to anything but his pride.

Claude sits and winces immediately after. Somehow his ankles are still linked, and tied to the bed. Between them he notices only then the mess that Dimiti left after he passed out. His blood boils inside his veins.

“Ahem.”

Dimitri sits on his desk, his chair turned to the bed with a glass of wine in hand. He put back his clothes long ago it seems, the black turtle neck that suits him so well. Claude isn’t sure if he likes him better with or without.

“Did you have me while I was out?” he asks. Not that he cares, but it’s new, he’s sure Dimitri never dared to do something like that before.

Dimitri looks to the ground, ashamed perhaps; he walks to him, sits on the bed and gives him the glass. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. For that at least,” he replies, his eyes quickly set on the ropes at his feet, asking for their removal. “Are you still scared I might run away while you’ll have your back turned to me?”

“Let’s clean you first.” Dimitri sets the glass of wine as soon as Claude has it emptied and runs a wet cloth on his neck where he bit him. The white linen is soon tainted with red. Before he can wince due to the coldness of the contact, Dimitri drops a light kiss on his mark. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, and he goes on where the ropes left traces, on each lovebites, the softness of his lips working like an ointment for the wounds he’s responsible for, ignoring for the first time perhaps that Claude is as much an actor in their making as he is, that Claude loves them as much as Dimitri despites them when he comes back to his common sense.

When he kisses the bruise on his neck again Claude takes the opportunity to lift his chin to his face, forcing their eyes to meet. “Hey, Dimitri,” he says when he’s sure he’s got his entire attention, before capturing his lips with a passionate kiss, one that mirrors the love he has for him, and which is somehow greater than before he entered the tent, “You were fantastic. Outstanding.”

“Really?” Oh, he’s so cute when he gets shy like this, when his fingers play with Claude’s, “Are you alright? I was so scared-”

“I passed out from sex. I don’t think a lot of people can brag about that.”

“There’s nothing to brag about. I..almost…”

“You did nothing but what I told you to. Heck, you did even  _ better  _ than anything I could have hoped for.” Claude leans on his shoulder, his cheek against the softness of his clothes. He lets out a long sigh through his nose. Tonight has been so much different from the previous times, certainly because Claude had a goal in mind, but also because they have never been in this situation before. The ropes on his ankles are just another sign of the fight they haven’t finished, and which didn’t find a conclusion in their throes of passion. “Your hands around my neck will never kill me, my love. But I’ll die on the battlefield, protecting you from Edelgard’s madness as much as your own, if you don’t change your mind.”

They lie down on the bed, facing each other; for some reason Dimitri stares at him in a way he never did before, and Claude has a feeling he has not the same interest in mind - the prospect of battle seems kilometres away from the face he offers him, that transpires of nothing but adoration, and soon Claude’s suspicions are confirmed by Dimitri’s next statement.

“The love of your life. Was it meant for me?”

Oh, it’s true that Claude did say that - not intentionally, but desperate situations ask for desperate measures. “What if?” He replies, elusively, “Would it change anything?”

“No.” His reply comes quick, Claude wouldn’t have taken hesitation for an answer. Dimitri takes his hand and brings its back to his lips, kissing it gently. “Not for our next battle, at least, but I supposed you didn’t mean anything else.”

“Am I?” The subject is flirting with a place in his heart he isn’t comfortable with, not at all, Claude needs to escape the trap Dimitri forces him into. When Dimitri only looks back, bemused, he adds, “To you. The love of your life.”

This colours his cheeks with bright red in an instant, he who didn’t even blush while his hands were around his throat. Oh, Claude is so enamoured. “I...don’t think I have enough...experience to say such a thing. But, at the very least, you are certainly something close to it, or at least I hope you are.”

Claude cannot help but smile fondly at this half hidden confession, but it’s like the truth cannot reach his brain, as if something inside him forces the words out, and bares them of their meaning. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask, for quite a time.” The blush doesn’t leave his cheek, but even if it’s shy, his eye meets his, unquivering. “Have you...How many others did you have?”

His previous words might have had a greater impact than he assumed. Who taught you all this, Claude, whose hands have run on your backside, who had the audacity to claim you but me, who did you let so close to what your heart desires? It’s what Dimitri’s heart wants to know, but will never dare to ask, at least not like this.

“Are you interested in the people who shared my bed, or something more personal?” There is quite a difference in number while considering these two options, and he’s afraid his honesty will cause Dimitri a pain he does not deserve, or should never feel. Accidental lovers are nothing to him, but he doubts Dimitri is of the kind to know this truth, unlike Sylvain.

“Everything. Everyone.” He curls an arm around his waist, Claude looks at his shoulder, strong, while he moves and yet his voice is fragile, his heart is so much, it’s so easy to forget sometimes. He has to be careful, he has to be clever, but to ease Dimitri’s fears he’ll have no other choice but to reveal his own.

Is he ready for that though? Is Dimitri worth such an important sacrifice?

“I’ve lost count.” he says, and if Dimitri thinks he’s humoring him, it’s the plain truth, unfortunately. “I’ve...where I come from, those kinds of...activities are widely spread and not hidden like here. I started very young for your standard at least. The first time someone tied me to a bed was three years ago, and I never got tired of it since.”

“Did you have anyone after I pushed you away?”

Claude shoves his eyes away. “I did.” He shouldn’t feel guilty for at least a thousand reasons, after all they weren’t linked or engaged on anything and could never be, yet admitting it in Dimitri’s arms makes him feel so awful that he almost wants to turn to the other side and emptied his stomach on the ground. He loved him, so much, and Dimitri wounded him just as much. Most of his nights were spent in strangers' arms to forget all about Dimitri and his treason, and only permitted Claude to miss the warmth of his kisses and the shape of his cock inside him - all in all, a huge waste of time and energy. Then, the questions arose. “Didn’t you?”

Dimitri is far from being a saint, at least after meeting Claude, and he’s so easy to yield to. Yet his answer is as quick as a previous one has been. “No.” he says, and Claude doesn’t know how to look at him anymore. “There has been no one. In fact,” a pause, Claude doesn’t like it but can’t think of why, “In fact, there has never been anyone else. Not...not then, or before.”

If his legs haven’t been tied to the bed Claude would have gladly jumped out of it. “What? You- never told me- you were a virgin when we-”

“Yes.” Dimitri says, almost tiredly - as if he expected Claude's reaction and didn’t like it. In this new light, a few details that Claude found a bit abnormal made sense finally, but how did Dimitri resist him for so long when he had no other way to unwind after his aggressive flirt still remains a mystery.

“I could have, never guessed. I mean,” he reactifies, because he owes Dimitri the truth after all, “I kind of noticed you were less experienced than I, but, you’re the King! You’re objectively the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, don’t tell me no one ever tried to...have their ways with you?”

“Claude, first of all, despite your excellent judge of character, I don’t think beauty has anything to do with objectivity. Second, before the battle at Gronder Field, and even in my academy days, my heart and mind were drowning, victims of the demons of my past, and I had nothing but revenge and anger to give to those around me.”

“I’m not talking about a passionate love affair, but even just, merely sex!”

“I know. But I seem not to be able to dissociate the two.” He drops a kiss on his forehead, looking for comfort perhaps, or to prove his point. “After you were gone I had too much anger, towards you and myself, to feel the need to have sex for a time; and even when time passed, the only moment I got myself remotedly excited were times I caught myself thinking about you and our nights together. When I succumbed to these visions and let myself have a bit of respite during those difficult times, more than once I felt disgusted by myself, for lusting for you after what you’ve done to me at first, and for missing you so much I couldn’t find sleep some nights, far later. I tried to find the same desire for others, as Sylvain advised me to, but nothing seemed to work. I could never get you out of my head.”

Under his arms and gentle touches, after the overwhelming words of love he spoke, and which he’s sure Dimitri has no idea of the power they yield, Claude finds himself shaking. If he has never been scared to die on a battlefield, opening his heart like Dimitri has just done, so easily that he made it look as if it was merely a walk in the park, petrifies him to no end, and Claude knows it’s a battle he will lose to Dimitri, for he has slip the truth already, earlier in their meeting. The love of his life? Can it be it, truly?

Has he ever been in love before, to begin with?

It would be so easy to say nothing. To smile, idly, to kiss Dimitri on the lips and distract him with his body, his mouth sucks him off - Claude knows too well how much Dimitri loses his mind when he deepthroats him - but Dimitri deserves better. He deserves the world, he deserves someone that loves him and that is not afraid to say it, and even if it goes against all of Claude’s principles he wants to be that person, he wants to be the one Dimitri relies on and gives his heart to.

“I...I never thought...it was never…” No, talking about the past, about how all of this started as Claude’s evil plan to manipulate him won’t work, dammit! Claude needs to be better than this, Dimitri deserves it, and if he cannot than Felix has been right all along. “I was so angry at you when you forced me to leave that I needed to pour my rage on someone else. I needed to prove you were replaceable. Exchangeable. That I didn’t need you, that I in fact had never needed you, and will never. But each partner I had, each faceless body I share a night with, or even less, they all failed to prove my point. Every night I spent with a stranger to forget about you made me think of you more than ever.” Those six months had been a real hell to go through, and even if he exchanged about most of his misfortune with Hilda, Claude has never said all, for it was too painful to get out of his chest without fearing it might collapse, and judging by the way his eyes burn while he spoke, Claude knows his intuition had once again been right about that. “Every time someone else touched me made me miss you more and more. Some nights, I wandered aimless in the street, looking for a thrill, anything to feel...something, anything.”

“Alive?”

Claude sucks in a breath. Silent tears run on his cheek, he hasn’t anticipated them, nor Dimitri’s burst of honesty - as if it was a surprise, what a fool he has become.

“I know. What it feels like.”

Dimitri has gone through so much. He must find him pathetic, to whine about something as  _ trivial  _ as a love affair, when he spent most of his life in this dullness, in a world where everything looks grey and nothing tastes good.

“For what it’s worth…” Claude bites back his tears, his forehead rests on Dimitri’s chest, “I’ve never loved them. Any of them. I only said it with you.” Claude crumbles when he feels Dimitri’s arms circling him and bringing him closer into his embrace, and he lets all the tears he has stored within the years flood, demping his turtleneck. “I only meant it with you. You’re the only person I love and ever loved.”

They don’t cry for long, perhaps a minute or two - Claude never saw him, but he heard Dimitri sniff a couple of times, and after all it’s only fair that they share the tears - but it’s enough to put their heart at ease and completely open to the other. What Claude had to achieve by ruse before is now accessible, the only problem - but is it, really? - is that the situation is now no longer one-side. 

But all in all, his plan succeeded, and more than he could have imagined. 

“We can’t go back to Fhirdiad.” Dimitri tells him once they’ve calmed down. At some point, Claude’s feet got freed again, but he remained naked in his lover’s arms. “Gideon’s caves are full of wheat and food supplies. If they take the city, we won’t survive the siege they will cast upon us - the population is already starving, and I’ve got more than an army to feed.”

“Why not stay in Gideon then?” Claude asks. That’s what he can’t understand. Is there something Dimitri hides of him?

“And risk the population’s life? Don’t you think Edelgard hasn’t killed enough innocents?” His fists curl into balls on the bed, Claude holds them and kisses them with all the love he has left. “We’ll have two days to prepare after we arrive before they reach the fortress. Since she is leading directly there, she is going for the siege, and this much means she has a plan in mind I cannot quite grasp.”

“And so do I.”

“She must have a secret weapon we know nothing about.” Dimitri goes on, this time calmer. “I cannot risk it. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“But going frontly is going to kill us all, and in the end you reserve the same fate to your people by dying in an useless battle. There must be something else we can do.”

They remain silent for a couple of minutes, until Claude lifts his head from the sheets.

“You said you wanted to bet on the effect of surprise, didn’t you?” Dimitri nods, “There’s no way she won’t expect you, enraged as she last saw you, not to risk it all on a frontal attack.”

“Claude,” he says, most seriously, “I am not waiting for her to-”

“Precisely! That’s exactly what we need to do.”

Dimitri blinks, once more bemused by Claude’s scheme. They had a long night ahead of them.

“I have a plan,” Claude starts, and he won’t stop until the sun is up and none of them has slept. “We need to make her think we’ll wait for her inside the fort and not attack - which will surprise her at first, because she probably bet you’ll attack her in the field - but in fact it’s exactly what we’re going to do. Remember how I saved your life? We need a decoy! Lot’s of them. Someone dressed as you will take the lead of half our troops and enter the town, while the other, you included, will wait until the battle has started to attack them from behind! This is the tougher part, because we need to contour their whole army without being spotted, but-”

Dimitri takes his face in the palm of his hands and kisses him abruptly. “I love you.” he says, out of the blue. “I think I never told you before.”

It’s enough to short circuit Claude’s mind for a couple of seconds before they move together to the map on Dimitri’s desk and polish their flawless strategy together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To think this was supposed to be a one shot.  
> Also it was my first BDSM fic! I hope you liked it! Please be careful and read a lot before doing stuff like that! Be safe and horny!

**Author's Note:**

> btw here is [my twitter](https://twitter.com/doctor_queenie) ! Come here to chat and support me


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